Ziauddin Sardar - Reading The Qur'An - The Contemporary Relevance of The Sacred Text of Islam-Oxford University Press (2011)

READING THE QUR’AN
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ZIAUDDIN SARDAR
Reading the Qur’an

The Contemporary Relevance of the
Sacred Text of Islam
1
1
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Copyright © 2011 by Ziauddin Sardar
First published in the United Kingdom by C. Hurst & Co. (Publishers) Ltd., 2010
Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Sardar, Ziauddin.
Reading the Qur’an : the contemporary relevance of the sacred text of
Islam / Ziauddin Sardar.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-19-983674-1
1. Koran—Criticism, interpretation, etc.
2. Koran—Appreciation. 3. Koran—Reading. I. Title.
BP130.4.S376 2011
297.1'226—dc22 2011008721
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America

on acid-free paper
CONTENTS
Preface xi
Prologue xiii
PART ONE: OVERVIEW

1. The Qur’an and Me 3
2. Style and Structure 13
3. Approach and Interpretations 21
4. Questions of Authority 31
5. The Limits of Translations 39
PART TWO: BY WAY OF TRADITION

6. Introduction 57
7. Al-Fatiha: Attributes of God 63
8. Al-Fatiha: ‘The Straight Path’ 67
9. Al-Baqara: The Qur’an and Doubt 71
10. Al-Baqara: ‘The Hypocrites’ 77
11. Al-Baqara: Paradise 83
12. Al-Baqara: Fall and Evil 89
13. Al-Baqara: ‘Children of Israel’ 95
14. Al-Baqara: A ‘Middle Community’ 109
15. Al-Baqara: Virtuous People 115
16. Al-Baqara: Law of Equity 123
17. Al-Baqara: Fasting 129
18. Al-Baqara: War and Peace 135
19. Al-Baqara: Hajj 143
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CONTENTS
20. Al-Baqara: Apostasy and Migration 151

21. Al-Baqara: Marriage and Divorce 161
22. Al-Baqara: Qualities of Leadership 173
23. Al-Baqara: Majesty of God and Freedom of Religion 179
24. Al-Baqara: Arguing with God 183
25. Al-Baqara: Charity and Usury 189
26. Al-Baqara: Witness 199
27. Al-Baqara: Prayer 205
PART THREE: THEMES AND CONCEPTS

28. Introduction 211
29. Prophets and Revelation 215
30. Abrogation and Change 225
31. Time and History 229
32. Truth and Plurality 235
33. Humanity and Diversity 241
34. Individual and Community 245
35. Reason and Knowledge 251
36. Crime and Punishment 255
37. Rights and Duties 261
38. Nature and Environment 265
39. Ethics and Morality 273
40. Reading and Writing 277
PART FOUR: CONTEMPORARY TOPICS

41. Introduction 283
42. The Sharia‘h 285
43. Power and Politics 293
44. Polygamy and Domestic Violence 305
45. Sex and Society 313
46. Homosexuality 323
47. The Veil 329
48. Freedom of Expression 337
49. Suicide (Assisted or Otherwise) 345
50. Science and Technology 351
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CONTENTS
51. Evolution 359

52. Art, Music and Imagination 363
Epilogue 369
Notes and References 375
Bibliography 387
Index 393
vii
Read! In the name of your Lord who created:
He created man from a clinging form.
Read! Your Lord is the most Bountiful One
Who taught by [means of ] the pen, who taught man what he did not know
The Qur’an: 96:1–5 (M A S Abdel Haleem translation)
I would think that, of all the books in this first list . . . the crucial work is the Koran.
Whether for its aesthetic and spiritual power or the influence it will have on all our
futures, ignorance of the Koran is foolish and increasingly dangerous.
Harold Bloom, The Wester n Canon: The Books and Schools of the Ages, Harcourt
Brace and Company, New York, 1994, p531
PREFACE
Reading the Qur’an grew out of my ‘Blogging the Qur’an’ project for the British
newspaper, The Guardian. The book retains some of the distinctive features of
the blogs: the concern with contemporary relevance, the emphasis on various
contexts, including the context of the society and conditions in which the
Qur’an was revealed, varied contexts by which readers through history have
read and interpreted the text, all accompanied by a critique derived from my
own engagement with the text and its meanings. I have also kept the conver-
sational tone of the blogs.
But, of course, a book is not a blog. By their very nature, blogs tends to be
short, punchy, and often, hurried. The book expands the content quite exten-
sively, with an emphasis on a more discursive and reflective analysis. The com-
mentary on al-Fatiha and al-Baqara, the first and the longest chapters in the
Qur’an, have been considerably reworked. It was also necessary to fill some of
the obvious gaps in the blogs with new subjects and topics. The blogs, written
during 2008, and aimed at Muslims and non-Muslims alike, are interactive and
include comments and questions posed by Guardian editors and readers, my
answers and rejoinders, and responses to my responses. Readers interested in
this vigorous, and sometimes heated, discussion will have to refer to the blogs
themselves, available at http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/quran/. Here, they will
find a more systematic, more elaborate, more wide-ranging, calm and collective,
but I hope just as lively, discourse on Islam’s Sacred Text. The journey that began
with ‘Blogging the Qur’an’ continues, the destination remains the same –
developing an understanding of the text for our own time – but the mode of
travel has definitely changed.
I owe a debt of gratitude to all those who participated in the blog. Thanks
are due to Georgina Henry, who commissioned the blog, Madeleine Bunting
who posed the initial questions, Andrew Brown and Brian Whitaker, who
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PREFACE
jumped in with their interventions, and Theresa Malone and David

Shariatmadari who sorted out the nuts and bolts of the whole process. Numer-
ous bloggers contributed to the discussion and provided valuable insights, but
I can only mention a few: Yayha Birt, Samia Rahman, Bill Sylvester, D Pavett,
Richard Kimber, Noor Al-Yaqeen, Shamim Miah, Jonathan Close, Rosalinda,
Kashif Shahzada, Sakeena, Abdullah Al-Hasan, Theo Hobson, Khokhar976,
jammyfool, solocontrotutti, MiskatonicUniversity, thinkbreath and Dr Jazz.
My apologies to those who have been left out – you all made me think anew!
A number of friends furnished useful comments on the whole blog, and
hence provided helpful suggestions for the book. I am particularly grateful
to Farid Esack, Bruce Lawrence and M A Abdel Haleem, who, in their various
ways, I regard as my teachers. Manazir Ahsan gave invaluable support by
providing me with a host of classical and modern texts on the Qur’an; and
Ehsan Masood was always there with his comments and suggestions and an
odd reference or two to neglected books. Finally, my heartfelt and fulsome
thanks to my friend and collaborator Merryl Wyn Davies: you are always there
with your trenchant criticism, your insistence on rewriting everything I have
written, and your invaluable help and support. Where would I be without
you (don’t answer that!)?
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PROLOGUE
We live in troubled times, in a dangerous and destabilised world. At the heart

of present conflicts and perceived future threats stands a book. The book is the
Qur’an, the Sacred Text of Islam. How people read the Qur’an and what is read
as the Qur’an are not necessarily the same thing. Yet the distinction is funda-
mental to how people think, feel and react to the problems afflicting the world
today. Whether Muslim or non Muslim, understanding what is involved in
reading the Qur’an, how it has been read in history and the ways in which
people derive meaning from its message, makes a significant contribution to
contemporary debates, controversy and doubt.
Even though it is one of the most read books of all time, what the Qur’an
actually says is shrouded in veils of assumptions and received opinions. Other
people’s readings of the Qur’an present considerable obstacles between the
text and today’s readers whether they are Muslim or non Muslim. The problems
of how to approach and make sense of the text are common to Muslim and
non Muslim and have existed almost since the original revelation of the Qur’an.
What has been read into its meaning often seems to count for more than what
the text itself expressly states.
Among believers the Qur’an is invoked to support directly contradictory
meanings: a majority insist it is a book of peace; extremists use it to argue that
it legitimises their recourse to mass murder. And on both sides of the divide
there is no consensus on how the majority of the text, accepted as governing a
total way of life, could, should, or ought to be applied to the whole gamut of
actual dilemmas of contemporary Muslim society or global human
problems.
For non believers the Qur’an presents a host of baffling conundrums. It is
not a linear text, it does not replicate conventions familiar from reading the
Bible. Yet the Bible is the inescapable source of comparison and contrast
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PROLOGUE
employed to evaluate how to read and what is read into its words. No book
divides opinion as passionately. No book more urgently needs to be read with
greater clarity.
There is a need, I would argue, for Muslims and non-Muslims alike, to
approach the text with fresh eyes. For non-Muslims there is a need to make an
effort to see what is so special about the Qur’an that convinces Muslims to
regulate their lives according to its teachings, what motivates and generates
passion, how the Qur’an shapes their thought and behaviour. And for Muslims
the corresponding need is to understand the ways in which it inspired earlier
generations to reach the zenith of civilisation, and to distinguish the possible
and potential shades of meaning from the various interpretations that have
accumulated over the centuries. However, the greatest challenge for both Mus-
lims and non-Muslims is to read the Qur’an on its own terms, to engage with
its text unencumbered by prejudices and preconceived ideas, to free their minds
as far as humanly possible from what we have been told to understand and
encounter its words anew.
This is what I have tried to do in this book. I have attempted to read the
Qur’an to uncover what the text communicates to me. Reading the Qur’an is
not an argument for or against any particular school of thought or tendency.
It is a product of a personal journey, my own engagement with the text of the
Qur’an. While I stress the importance of reading the Qur’an personally this
necessitates an exploration of what is required to make a text readable. However,
the personal, one man’s reading, inevitably is connected to the process of how
other people have read and responded to the same words, now and in history.
So this book seeks to identify and reflect on how my reading emerges from
and is distinct from the nuances, biases, dogmas, pieties and hostile criticisms
I have imbibed and am aware of in all I have ever read about the Qur’an. I
attempt to demystify the very act of reading by exploring the various contexts
that are essential parts of how readers engage with a sacred text.
I am not a special reader. Indeed, I have no qualms in admitting that I am
not the most qualified person to talk about the Qur’an, let alone offer my own
particular reading of the text and its meaning. I am not a Hafiz, or an Imam,
or an Alim – a religious scholar trained for years in a religious seminary.
Although on certain bad days, I do imagine myself as a Muslim thinker of some
repute. Worse: I don’t even speak Arabic.
However, most readers of the Qur’an are in the same position as me. Not
all of us can devote most of our lives to learning classical Arabic or become
Qur’anic scholars. But that does not deprive us of our right to read the Qur’an
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PROLOGUE
with all our shortcomings and gaps in knowledge. I, like most people, Muslims
and non-Muslims alike, read the Qur’an in translation. Here there is a basic
distinction to be made between reciting the Arabic words of the Qur’an and
reading with comprehension which is only possible with a translation in one’s
own native language. This is not ideal; but it is not unusual nor is it a major
drawback. Even modern Arabic speakers– and these constitute less than four-
fifths of the Muslim population of the world - do not find it easy to grasp the
meaning of its verses. Native Arabic speakers may have an advantage in pro-
nouncing its words correctly, but they are in the same boat as everyone else
when it comes to struggling to discover the meaning and contemporary rele-
vance of the words and verses of the Qur’an. They have to use classical and
modern commentaries to enhance their understanding. For Muslims, Arabs
and non-Arabs alike, the challenge of understanding the Qur’an, and making
sense of it for our times, is formidable. For non-Muslims the task is even greater.
The point is we all, whatever our state of knowledge and station in life, have
to struggle with the Sacred Book.
I write as Every Muslim; as an individual trying to understand what the
Qur’an means to me in the twenty-first Century. I believe that every Muslim
is duty bound to accept responsibility for making this effort. I contend that
one can have only an interpretative relationship with a text, particularly when
that text is regarded as eternal. By this I mean that readers can only strive to
do their best to arrive at conviction in their tentative, contextual and timebound
understanding of the text. The eternal and infinite are not qualities of human
knowledge, understanding or experience. By definition, not all the scholarship
of all the ages, individual and/or collective, can ever be an absolute and per-
manently fixed reading of the divine word. To accept the Qur’an as eternal
means acknowledging that there is always more to the text than our partial
intellect will comprehend and to begin one’s reading from that premise with
humility. The interpretive relationship begins with personal and individual
reading but that does not undermine or obliterate collective consequences.
The personal and individual are the necessary precursor and inclusive of a
perspective on communal obligations and responsibilities. Everyone who claims
to be a Muslim must struggle with the meaning of the Qur’an. There is no ‘get
out’ clause, no escape. This responsibility is not fulfilled by merely reciting its
words; or by being told by other, more qualified people, what it means and
should mean. It is something we need to discover for ourselves.
The Sacred Text of Islam was revealed over a period of 23 years, from 610
to 632 AD; it marks the beginning of Islam. It is the Book which defines all
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PROLOGUE
Muslims: they are people who believe its text is the Word of God recorded
exactly as revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. The Qur’an is an inescapable
presence in the daily life of Muslims: passages are recited during the five daily
prayers while people read the whole text frequently throughout their lives.
However, the message of the Qur’an is not directed exclusively to those who
believe. The Qur’an addresses all humanity, in particular ‘people who think’.
It describes itself as a book of guidance for all humanity, even though many of
its verses specifically address ‘those who believe’. It admonishes those who
believe blindly; and asks it readers, again and again, to observe, reflect, ques-
tion. In other words it is a book that demands critical thought of all readers.
It is a book about relationships, concerned to establish the relationship between
God and all created things including all humanity. While it devotes consider-
able space to delineating the attributes of God, the power and majesty of the
divine that is beyond human comprehension, the Qur’an stresses throughout
that knowledge and reason are as important and valid as faith itself in appre-
hending and understanding God.
The message of the Qur’an is not easy to grasp. It is quite simply unlike any
other ‘book’ having no conventional beginning or end. At first sight, it is full
of repetitions, seems to imply internal contradictions and appears to have its
own logic. This is why non-Muslims readers are often baffled. They expect it
to resemble the Bible. The Qur’an does contain many Biblical stories, relating
incidents in the lives of 25 Prophets also mentioned in the Bible, such as Proph-
ets Moses, Abraham, Jesus, Noah and Lot. Yet reference to these Biblical Proph-
ets is not found in a single place. Their stories occur in fragments and recur,
introducing and focusing on different details at various points throughout the
entire book. But the comparison ends there. The Qur’an, unlike the Bible, has
no narrative structure: the few stories it relates are not exhaustive factual recitals
but assume a familiarity with detail and focus on drawing a particular insight
or moral from the sparse details specifically referred to; it has surprisingly few
commandments; its verses are not arranged in chronological order according
to the sequence in which they were revealed. All this makes the Qur’an much
more difficult to read in English, or indeed in any other translation, than most
conventional texts.
The Qur’an uses a heightened form of Arabic, language of great beauty with
the power to move listeners. This Qur’anic Arabic has a particular structure:
it locks every word with every other in the text and places it in a precise loca-
tion in the whole text. This interlocking language is seen by Muslims as a proof
of the Qur’an’s Divine origins; it also makes the text easy to memorise. Millions
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PROLOGUE
of people around the world, known as hafiz, have committed the entire Qur’an
to memory. They carry it, as the Muslim tradition says, in ‘their heart’. But there
is a profound irony here: memorising the Qur’an is not the same as reading,
interpreting or understanding. Reading involves a struggle with words and
meanings.
To genuinely struggle with words and meanings requires something more.
Recitation and memorising are tools of preservation; they ensure the continuity
of the original text as the enduring basis for a personal interpretive relationship
with scripture. To make that relationship meaningful the preserved and remem-
bered words have to be comprehended through the language of one’s conven-
tional understanding. Only through the medium of one’s own language can
there be a critical engagement with the text that can uncover its significance
for the circumstances of one’s daily life. Translations can be good and bad, they
can hide as much as they reveal. While reading the Qur’an through translation,
I have tried to unravel the multiple shades of meaning in some of its key terms
and phrases. The overall emphasis is on finding contemporary relevance. What
does the Qur’an say to our times, what guidance it provides for contemporary
problems, how it seeks to promote a life of virtue and righteousness – these
are questions uppermost in my reading.
Yet, I begin with the assumption that in translation both Muslims and non-
Muslims can gain a basic appreciation of the Qur’an and its message, without
any specialised knowledge. All one needs is an eagerness to know and learn,
working with the assistance of a range of readily available resources, some
humility and patience, and the Qur’an opens up. Of course, each reader will
examine the text through his or her own experience, asking questions that seem
pertinent to them. Asking questions, I believe, is particularly relevant here: the
Qur’an responds, I discovered, to questioning, which is my main methodology
in this endeavour. Obviously, as a Muslim, I bring particular understandings
and experience to my reading of the text but I also ask questions that a believer
would perhaps not ask and which are uppermost in the minds of non-Muslim
readers. By asking significant questions, acknowledging my own experiences
and concerns to other readers, debating them aloud for myself and the readers,
it becomes possible to consider what each passage means on an individual level
here and now. Making the text accessible through a process of personal ques-
tioning, I hope, offers new insight on possible and potential meanings that
provide a stimulus for more informed debate on current issues and concerned
differences of opinion. The Quran, like all religious scriptures, has many layers
of meaning and this book attempts to uncover these multiple layers. Making
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PROLOGUE
evident these multiple layers and considering how and in what ways they have
been, are or could be relevant to different audiences enables readers to consider
for themselves the contemporary relevance of the text. Reading the Qur’an is
an invitation to readers to make up their own minds about the content and
meaning of this sacred text.
Muslims have been wrestling with the meaning of the words of the Qur’an
since the inception of Islam. Traditionally, the Qur’an has been interpreted
verse by verse; classical scholars would start with the first verse and continue
all the way to the last, explaining the meaning and significance of each. Clas-
sical commentators, such as al-Razi (964–930 AD), ibn Arabi (1165–1240)
and ibn Kathir (1301–1373) followed this methodology as do contemporary
commentaries, such as those of Syed Qutb (1906–1966) and Abu Ala Mawdudi
(1903–1979), the ideological leader of Muslim Brotherhood and the founder
of Jamaat-e-Islam respectively. Syed Qutb often provides long, discursive pas-
sages that analyse each verse in considerable detail. But verse-by-verse exegesis
has its limits. It can, for example, lead to literalism. Moreover, as the noted
Muslim scholar, Fazlur Rahman (1911–1988), suggests ‘by the very nature of
their procedure they cannot yield insight into the cohesive outlook on the
universe and life which the Qur’an undoubted possesses’ [1]. The practice of
verse-by-verse has led to the practice of citing specific verses to justify certain
positions, no matter how far these positions may be from the overall spirit of
the Qur’an. It is a particular favourite of the fire and brimstone brigade who
reduce the Qur’an to a checklist of do’s and don’ts. I have never believed that
a single method can tell us all there is to know about a phenomenon, let alone
such a complex and multilayered text as the Qur’an. Here, as elsewhere, I opt
for multiple methods.
I identify, combine and explore various methodologies and approaches in
my reading of the Qur’an. Even in the section where I attempt to provide an
approximation of the verse-by-verse technique, in deference to tradition, I
consciously employ a number of old and new methods, from contextual analysis
to hermeneutics, from literary theory to semiotics, to tease out new meaning
and appreciation of the Qur’anic text. By combining multiple methods and
approaches, I hope to alert myself, and hence the reader, to different levels of
meaning and interpretation of the text – how it has been classically read, how
it can be read differently, and how it might be read today.
Classical commentaries emphasise two types of context. First, the context
within the Qur’an: what the Sacred Text has to say about a subject in different
places. Here the most common example is the Qur’an’s prohibition of alcohol.
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First, we are told not drink while praying, then the Qur’an says alcohol has
both good and bad properties but its bad effects often outweigh the good.
Finally, it asks the Muslim community not to drink at all. In this contextual
analysis, traditionally, the last verse is accepted as the final injunction while the
previous ones are said to be abrogated and therefore can be ignored.
The second context is provided by the life of the Prophet. The Prophet
Muhammad was not only the recipient of the revelation, but the revelation
itself is a commentary on his life. So, the interpretation of its verses, many of
which are addressed directly to the Prophet, has to be seen in the context of
what was happening to the Prophet. Verses that apply specifically to the house-
hold of the Prophet Mohammad, for example, may or may not have universal
connotations. Whether such verses have implications for other times must be
an act of interpretation, ideally the work of reason, reflection and questioning
rather than a literal incitement.
I add two further contexts to those used in classical commentary: the context
of history and the context of our time. It is these additions which perhaps make
my reading different from others. The Qur’an is an eternal text – that its words
are valid for all time and place is a basic Muslim belief. But it is also a text
revealed in history, a history whose context - social conditions, norms and
customs, political structures – it could not ignore. Indeed, the Qur’an acknowl-
edges that it was revealed during a particular history with particular circum-
stances. While it is not a narrative history, it uses the history of the time of the
Prophet as a commentary on the meaning and implications of human history.
It questions the history of other peoples and places to illuminate and point to
a deeper understanding of both spiritual and material truth. So, I argue that
many of its verses, such as those on women and crime and punishment, should
be read in this context; and understood in terms of their spirit rather than
specific injunctions.
Moreover, we as human beings can only engage with the Qur’an, and inter-
pret it, according to our own contemporary understanding. It has to make
sense to us as ordinary mortals here and now; it has to have significance for us
in the light of our needs and requirements in contemporary times; it has to
guide us through the moral, ethical and spiritual dilemmas of our time. So, the
context of our time is equally important for its interpretation. Thus, we have
to approach the Qur’an from the perspective of how morality, on such issues
for example as gay rights and environmental concerns, has evolved in our own
time; and engage with the text in the light of our changing circumstances. My
insistence on the context of our time actually inverts the traditional
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understanding of the Qur’an: most Muslims believe that morality ends with
the Qur’an; I, on the other hand, argue that the Qur’an marks the beginning
of morality. The morality of the Qur’an is not the end point of human thought
and evolution. If that was the case then human evolution would have no mean-
ing and history would really have ended. Rather, it marks the beginning of
ethics and morality from which and upon which reflection depends and genu-
ine progress is possible.
A Qur’an relevant to all time and place also means no interpretation of the
Qur’an can be eternal; it can only be limited and time bound – something that
I argued in my, now forgotten book, The Future of Muslim Civilisation several
decades ago [2]. The twelfth century Muslim theologian and philosopher,
al-Ghazzali, who is perhaps one of the most misunderstood classical Muslim
thinker, argued that the Qur’an was open to as many interpretations as there
are drops of water in the ocean. ‘O you who recite a lengthy portion of the
Qur’an’, he wrote, ‘Do you not know that the Qur’an is like an ocean? Do you
not have a duty to sail into the endless ocean of its meanings? Dive into the
ocean’s depths so that you may become wealthy by gaining its rubies and pearls.
Why do you persist in remaining on the shore, satisfied with the manifest?’
[3]. To go beyond the ‘manifest meanings’, we need to interpret the Qur’an
again and again. My thesis is that the Qur’an has to be reinterpreted from
epoch to epoch, generation to generation. The natural corollary of this thesis
is that it is legitimate for Muslims to reject, enhance, go beyond and differ
significantly from the interpretations of earlier times.
Reading the Qur’an is divided into four parts. Part One provides an Over-
view, discussing the style, nature and structure of the Qur’an, how the Qur’an
has been read and interpreted conventionally, problems and strengths of trans-
lations, and the burning question: who has the authority to interpret the
Qur’an?
Part Two, ‘By Way of Tradition’, provides a commentary on chapter 1, Al-
Fatiha, which is regarded as the summary of the Qur’an, and chapter 2, Al-
Baqara, the longest chapter in the Qur’an. Al-Baqara actually provides a
compendium, or précis, of the themes and concepts of Qur’anic teaching from
basic beliefs such as heaven and hell and good and evil, fundamental Islamic
practices such as prayer, fasting and hajj, basic legal injunctions on social rela-
tions, equality, women’s rights, war and peace, and pluralism. In this section
while I acknowledge the conventional method of verse by verse exegesis in the
need to highlight specific verses I give much greater emphasis to identifying
groups of verses, sometimes a mere handful sometimes long passages, as being
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interlinked by overarching themes and subject matter. Looking at what seem

to me to be self selecting sections is where I find a new perspective on verses I
have previously read innumerable times. Balancing the ‘atoms’ of the verse by
verse tradition with the broader focus on theme and subject matter I find
uncovers the connective tissue of the text, it maintains a consistent appreciation
of a coherent interlinked whole and uncovers an inner logic which suggests
the rationale for what at first sight appear to be disparate and unrelated refer-
ences. Read in this way each section opens new perceptions which positively
encourage and require me to question and reflect on the contemporary rele-
vance of Qur’anic teachings.
Part Three focuses on major themes of the Qur’an and identifies some key
concepts used in the text. This is the kind of approach that some reformists
– and many postmodern Muslims – like to take. This part looks at the Qur’an
as a whole, an integrated text, and explores what the Qur’an has to say about
truth and plurality, humanity and community, individual and society, reason
and knowledge, rights and duties, nature and environment, ethics and morality,
reading and writing and other similar issues. These themes are not normally
addressed individually in conventional commentaries.
Part Four deals with issues and topics of contemporary times – from the
Shariah (Islamic Law) to suicide bombing, politics and democracy, sex and
homosexuality, science and evolution, to freedom of expression and the veil.
Here verses from various parts of the Qur’an are brought together to explore
the position of the Qur’an and its possible and potential meaning in relation
to some of the pressing issues of our time.
I hope the reader will have as much pleasure and intellectual stimulation in
exploring the Qur’an with me as I did. Most of all I hope this book convinces
readers that the tools are readily available for the Qur’an to be read by anyone
without the need for specialised knowledge. The Sacred Text of Islam requires
effort and is not easy. Yet it speaks to us today and everyone can avail themselves
of the tools that common sense and basic reasonableness require to make its
language and message meaningful. You are not going to get anything out of
the Book that shapes the outlook of a quarter of humanity if you approach it
with a hostile intent – except, perhaps, a convoluted justification of your own
prejudices and phobias. Equally, applying ninth century exegesis and answers
to twenty-first century circumstances not only defies the spirit of inquiry and
debate the Qur’an commends to its readers, it can result in customs and actions
that violate the ethos and meaning of Qur’anic teachings and beliefs. Love of
the self and one’s own self-righteous positions, dogmatic or liberal, religious
xxi
PROLOGUE
or secular, can only be a barrier to a serious engagement with the Qur’an. The
Sacred Text demands an open mind and a modicum of effort. It does not
provide us with ready made answers. But it does guide us, if we are willing,
towards a fresh understanding and appreciation of our eternal ethical and moral
dilemmas and what it means to be human.
To be human, by definition, is to be imperfect. Any reading of the Qur’an
will bound to have imperfections, mistakes, misinterpretation, misrepresenta-
tions, and, in my particular case, tendency to berate the self-righteous of all
shades and colour. Following on the footsteps of the great twelfth century
Andalusian philosopher, ibn Rushd, I repeat after him: ‘God knows every single
letter, and perhaps God will accept my excuse and forgive my stumbling in His
bounty, generosity, munificence and excellence – there is no God but He! [4]’.
xxii
Part One
OVERVIEW
1
THE QUR’AN AND ME
I grew up reading the Qur’an on my mother’s lap. It’s an experience I share with
most Muslim children. It’s usual, once children are about four or five, for moth-
ers to start reading the Qur’an and getting the child to repeat the words, again
and again, till the Arabic sounds become familiar and can be recited from
memory. And so it is that our connection to the Qur’an is infused with associa-
tions of the warmest and most enduring of human bonds. The Qur’an enters
our lives as an integral part of home and domesticity, the environment in which
we become aware of ourselves as a person. Outside the home five times a day
throughout the Muslim world we hear the muadhin’s call to prayer: ‘come to
falah’ (well-being, felicity), he urges, while indoors mothers teach the most
familiar and basic words which constitute prayer. Actually, I started reading
the Qur’an a little late—when I was pushing six. In those days, we lived in a
small town on the Pakistani side of the Punjab. After dinner every Thursday
evening, my mother would shout ‘Sipara time’. I would stop playing, run to
her, jump on her lap and put my left arm around her neck. She would open a
slim, well read and rather torn booklet, and start reading: Bismillah ir-Rahman
ir-Rahim: In the name of God, the Beneficent, the Merciful. I remember how
she would pronounce each word distinctly and separately. I would repeat each
word after her, and then she’d have me repeat them again to make sure I pro-
nounced each one correctly.
A Sipara contains a section of the Qur’an. The word ‘Qur’an’ means reading;
and the Holy Book is often described as ‘The Noble Reading’. To make it easier
to read, it is divided into thirty sections known in Arabic as juz’. Sipara is the
Urdu equivalent, sometimes shortened simply to para. Reading one para a day,
3
you can complete a recitation of the whole Qur’an in a month. This comes in
handy during the fasting month of Ramadan; then the whole Qur’an is read,
one section each evening, to vast gatherings at special congregational prayer
sessions. The particular emphasis on reading the Qur’an during Ramadan is in
recognition that this was the month when the first words of the Qur’an were
revealed to the Prophet Muhammad.
Children begin their reading at the end. So I started with the 30th Sipara. It
contains short chapters, or suras, some just a few verses long, all rather easy to
commit to memory. When I had memorised most of the chapters in this
Sipara, and it was time to tackle the longer suras, my mother decided to send
me to the madrasa, or religious school, in the local mosque. It is vaguely equiva-
lent to going to Sunday School, but with rather more emphasis on the school
since the curriculum is set and the same everywhere: learning to read the
Qur’an. Most mosques have a madrasa attached to them; and I suppose my
madrasa was like a madrasa in any mosque, anywhere in the world. It was a
small, darkly lit room. Children would arrive at an appointed time, in my case
after midday Friday prayers. On arriving we’d all perform the obligatory ablu-
tion, mastering the ritual of carefully washing hands, forearms, head and feet
to cleanse ourselves of the dust and grime of the mundane and prepare our-
selves for the encounter with the Sacred Text. Then we’d all take our places on
small stools behind a long, narrow table. The Imam sat on a chair in front of
us, waving a long stick. By the age of seven or eight, children are expected to
know the words, having mastered the letters and sounds of the Arabic alpha-
bet, and thus be able to read the Qur’an themselves. We would be instructed
to open our Sipara on a specific page—and start reading aloud. The Imam
would listen, somehow able to pay attention to each child. If someone got the
pronunciation of a word wrong, or made some other mistake, down would
come the stick. I don’t remember anyone actually being hit; the punishment
seemed to land on the table. But I do remember how the rapid-fire swish and
thwack frightened all of us.
I wasn’t enthusiastic about my madrasa lessons, which lasted about an hour.
They lacked the loving touch of my mother. But I loved what happened fre-
quently after lessons. The classes were not graded, even though everyone from
the locality came, so all ages and stages mixed in the harmonics, or to an
untrained ear the cacophony, of reading aloud their personal assignment of
different parts of the Qur’an. Someone in the class would always be about to
reach the completion of the whole Qur’an. When they did, their family would
celebrate with a general and generous distribution of sweetmeats: you know,
4
THE QUR’AN AND ME
things like gulab jaman, ras malai, and my all-time favourite, barfi. I’d gorge
myself and always got to take a plateful home. On certain occasions a particu-
larly notable student would have managed to memorise the whole Qur’an.
They would be honoured with the title ‘hafidh’; and then their family’s joy
would know no bounds. There would be barfi by the truckload!
Of course, the classes I attended were for boys. But exactly the same classes
with the same curriculum and system were held for girls, or how else would
there be mothers ready and able to teach their children? After the madrasa
comes the chasm. The awful difference in attitudes to and provision of educa-
tion for women in many Muslim countries never ceases to outrage me.
My madrasa lessons did not last long. When I was nine, my family moved
to Clapton Pond in Hackney. In the early sixties, there were few mosques in
London. There was no chance of me going to a madrasa. So back I went to my
mother—but her lap was now occupied by my younger sister. Besides, she
expected me to read the Qur’an by myself; not surprising, since I had reached
the end of the 29th para. My mother now said I should start from the beginning
again, with the 30th para. But this time she was insistent that I read the words
with meaning.
For Muslims, the Qur’an is the Word of God. In fact, that’s how we define
a Muslim: someone who accepts the Divine origins of the Noble Reading. To
read the Qur’an is to see and hear the very words of God. This is why we read
it in its original form: in Arabic, just as it was revealed to and then recited by
Prophet Muhammad. Translations may convey meaning, but all translations
are at best approximations, and therefore definitely not the actual words of
God. As such, they do not amount to prayer or worship, which in Islam con-
sists largely of reading the Qur’an. When my mother was taking me through
my first Sipara, it was nothing like her reading me a bedtime story, which she
sometimes did—mostly short, Urdu versions of Arabian Nights. When my
mother taught me to read the Qur’an it was an act of worship and prayer. She
was, in fact, teaching me how to pray—or rather, exactly what to recite as the
basis of the five daily prayers.
Even before I started to read the Qur’an with meaning, I had a personal
emotional connection to the Sacred Book. I felt a deep love for the text; it grew
naturally from the experience of learning with my mother and how she taught
me to read. The Glorious Qur’an, as far as she was concerned, was all about
love: Love of God, Love of His Words. It was a deep, all-pervasive, uncondi-
tional love—like that of a mother for her son. I also felt reverence for the
Qur’an. This came from watching how my mother herself approached the
5
Qur’an: with total respect and humility. And I felt fear. Somehow, reading the
Qur’an always invoked the memory of the madrasa and the Imam Sahib with
his long, bamboo stick. Swish! Later, I rationalised this fear as the apprehen-
sion of actually encountering the Majesty of God. Once you know the signifi-
cance of the Qur’an, then you know that each time you open the Book or hear
its words, right then and there, in the here and now, you are receiving the direct
Word of God without intermediary. So trepidation, and more than a hint of
caution, are no bad thing; and a large dose of humility is certainly needed, or
just plain fear—fear of misunderstanding or misinterpreting His Word.
My emotional connection became more complex once I started to read the
Qur’an with meaning. Now, I had to engage my mind: an inquiring, restless
mind busily engaged in the process of being shaped by educational experiences
and systems radically different to those honed in the madrasa. I was beginning
to learn that reason makes its own demands. In London, the ritual of reading
the Qur’an in our household changed. Both my parents worked from Monday
to Friday. So Qur’an reading took place on Saturday mornings. Sundays were
devoted by my mother to more profane ritual: she went, without fail, to the
local fleapit to watch the latest offering from Bollywood [1].
Every Saturday I would sit in front of my mother and read out some selected
verses. She would then explain their meaning in Urdu, with the aid of a transla-
tion. I would then read out the English translation of the same verses. Then,
we would chat; and totally disagree.
My first problem was with the Urdu translation. Urdu is an exquisite, beau-
tiful and poetic language. It is suffused with Arabic words. That’s why those,
like me, who read Urdu find it easy to read Arabic. (We simply read Arabic as
though it was written in Urdu!) But I found Urdu translations of the Qur’an
to be rather ugly; worse, the Urdu translation was often at odds with the Eng-
lish translation. The same verse sometimes conveyed quite different meanings
when read in Urdu and English translations. Reading the Qur’an, I quickly
realised, is one thing, but understanding it quite another.
Most of my life since adolescence has been a struggle with the meanings of
the verses of the Qur’an. During my university years, when I was active in vari-
ous student Islamic bodies, I joined a study group, or Usra. Each member took
turns to host our sessions; we studied the Qur’an systematically, with the aid
of a number of classical and contemporary commentaries, under the guidance
of a well-known scholar. I was also involved, during this time, in the Federation
of Students’ Islamic Societies (FOSIS) and The Muslim, its monthly magazine
[2]. In 1968, The Muslim began serialising a translation of Sayyid Qutb’s In the
6
THE QUR’AN AND ME
Shade of the Qur’an, a massive, multi-volume commentary by one of the leading

ideologues of the Muslim Brotherhood. I approached each instalment with
expectation and a little thrill. Qutb (1906–66), who was a literary critic,
wrote his commentary with style and panache; and I devoured it with relish
and enthusiasm. He provided assurance for a believer, and his command of the
scope and sweep of Muslim history, culture and civilisation gave one pride
in the achievements of Muslims. However, Qutb was nothing if not a man
of total conviction. There was a certainty in his commentary that I could
not share.
In particular, I had problems with Qutb’s insistence that sometimes it is
necessary to dispense with reason when reading the Qur’an. He throws scorn
at what he described as ‘the rational school’. The rational school, he claimed,
‘had gone too far’ in demanding ‘rational explanation for all which may be
unacceptable to it’. It shows, he thunders, ‘clearly a strong desire to reduce the
greater number of miracles to only the more familiar of Allah’s natural laws
rather than the supernatural’ [3]. Now, I must confess that I have always had
problems with miracles and continue to do so. But I have no difficulty in
accepting the limits of human reason. Neither would I argue with Qubt’s dec-
laration that ‘Allah’s will and power are absolute, limitless’. But how, I won-
dered, could one make sense of what the Qur’an says without making full use
of one’s reason, however limited, in every and each situation? Is God’s will not
amenable to interrogation by human reason? How, without recourse to reason,
are we to check harsh, arbitrary and absurd interpretations of the Qur’an? Are
we supposed to read the Qur’an, and engage with the Absolute and the Limit-
less, without enquiring how and why? And, equally important: is it reasonable
to presume one can have an absolute understanding, as Qutb’s own commen-
tary seems to imply, of the Absolute?
The consequences of not using reason, fully and unhindered, in one’s read-
ing of the Qur’an became evident when, on a visit to Pakistan, I went back to
my old madrasa. It had not changed much, except for one thing. I could see
that it had become a much more regimented and violent environment. The
Qur’an classes were being led by three Mullahs who were beating the children
mercilessly for every mistake, however insignificant. One could see the fear in
the eyes of children who were endlessly repeating the same verse of the Qur’an
again and again, while their teachers tried to ensure that they pronounced
every word correctly. This was not about inspiring the love of a Sacred Text. It
was about instilling the fear of God by brutal means. Later on, when I visited
other larger madrasas, which were more like colleges, I found them to be puri-
7
tan, authoritarian and hierarchical institutions. Young men grew and lived
within their four walls, in poverty, without family, recreation or any form of
amusement, eating and studying in an environment which to all intents and
purposes resembled nothing so much as a medieval monastery. Here, the
Qur’an was used not for meditation and inner reflection, questioning and
thought, but as a tool of oppression. Bearded students, in their trademark
loose-fitting, knee-length tunic (kurta) and baggy pants (pyjamas), quoted the
Qur’an or traditions of the Prophet like automatons to justify everything from
their ‘Islamic dress’ and beards to their xenophobia and self-righteousness. It
was not just that these students, and their teachers, had accepted the so-called
‘miracle’ verses of the Qur’an unquestionably; they accepted everything with-
out question and use of reason. Irrationality, obscurantism and dogma ruled
every aspect of their lives.
In these madrasas, not just the Qur’an but everything is learned by rote and
taught as the final, unquestionable word. ‘The texts used are redundant and at
times impenetrable’, writes Ebrahim Moosa. Born in Cape Town, South Africa
and now Director of the Center for Islamic Studies at Duke University, Moosa
travelled to India in his youth to undergo a traditional Islamic education. Of
his studies at two of the Muslim world’s premier madrasas he writes: ‘Inertia
has turned the texts and syllabus into inviolable monuments to the past. The
result is that the students are poorly prepared and lack confidence to engage
the tradition critically to meet the needs of a changing world. At its worst the
system recycles intellectual mediocrity as piety’. His education made him ‘self-
righteous’ about the ‘Islamic dress code’ and ‘the superiority of the interpreta-
tions of madrasa authorities’ [4].
Just a few years ago I watched a documentary made by a group of Nigerian
friends to defend the reputation of traditional madrasas in their country. Nige-
ria is plagued by religious tension that often boils into bloody conflict. The
film was intended to demystify and explain how this system of education
works. They wanted to show that, rather than bringing together a collection
of ragamuffin youths who become a danger to the surrounding community,
the madrasas are the only form of education open to poor Muslims who often
travelled long distances from their home to study free of charge. The film dwelt
on the familiar scenes of sessions of rote learning of the Qur’an and students
learning to write the text on the elegant traditional wooden boards that are
particularly fine examples of Hausa craftsmanship—and a source of income
for the students. After watching the programme I turned to one of the spon-
sors who happened to be a leading educationalist, indeed a person responsible
8
THE QUR’AN AND ME
for training teachers in the modern school system of Nigeria: ‘Is that how you
would recommend a syllabus to be operated in your schools?’ I asked. If a
Nigerian face could have turned ashen, it would have. It was as if my friend
had suddenly crashed with great force into a brick wall. Even as a professional
educationalist it had never before occurred to him to question the content and
form of madrasa education. Tradition was to be defended, subtly and effi-
ciently, with all the skills of modern communication. Quite simply, it was never
to be questioned.
As my career developed, I attended innumerable conferences of Muslim
scholars, visited many Muslim countries, and met many people who argued
about the meanings of the Sacred Text. The more I learned of Muslims’ intel-
lectual history and thought about the differences and distinctions, as well as
similarities, between classical and modern scholars, the more I had to struggle
with what Muslims throughout their history have made of the Qur’an. In Saudi
Arabia, where I lived for almost five years, I spent some time at Mecca Univer-
sity and visited the university in Medina. You could hardly move a few yards
without someone quoting the Qur’an at you. But the quotations were not
meant to be discussed or explored: they were used explicitly to force you to
behave in a certain way or accept certain unjust laws or unreasonable positions,
or to shut you up. The Qur’an had become a stick frequently used for ensuring
conformity and suppressing dissenting views. It was all so far removed from
the Qur’an I had known during my childhood.
It was not just that different people were finding different meanings in the
Qur’an, and interpreting it in different ways—some I could hardly agree with.
It was also that some were finding things that went totally against my own
conscience: justification for misogyny, validation for hatred of others, an obses-
sion with dress, facial furniture and mindless ritual, oppressive laws, rules of
running modern states, arguments for superiority of certain classes and indi-
viduals, even the discoveries of science (from electricity and relativity to geol-
ogy). All of this I found deeply troubling. And I was particularly perturbed by
the sight of protesters waving the Qur’an and shouting obnoxious, hate-fuelled
and incendiary slogans. It was as though for many Muslims the Qur’an was as
closed as their minds, an ornament on which to project all one’s prejudices and
paranoia. I shared the thoughts of Urdu poet Mahir-ul-Qadri (1907–78), who
has the Qur’an lamenting:
As an ornament do they adorn me,
Yet they keep me, and sometimes kiss me,
In their celebrations they recite me,
9
In disputes they swear by me,

On shelves do they securely keep me,
Till another celebration or dispute, when they need me,
Yes, they read me and memorise me,
Yet only an ornament am I,
My message lies neglected, my treasures untouched,
The field lies bare, where blossomed once true glory,
Wrong is the treatment that I receive,
So much to give have I, but none is there to perceive. [5]
Every Muslim can reel out a string of commonly held attributes about the
Qur’an. It is Divine. It is Eternal. It is timeless, its words unchanged, it is ever
present. It is unique, perfect, a literary miracle. It is complete, universal, the
very proof of the existence of God. It is the Final Word of God. Yet, it seems
to me, they forget an obvious fact: sacred texts, by their very nature, are com-
plex, multi-layered, allegorical, metaphorical and an embodiment of pluralistic
meanings. A Divine Text does not yield a divine meaning: the meaning attrib-
uted to it can only be the product of human understanding. A timeless book
has meaning only in time. It can only speak to us in our own time and circum-
stances. Our understanding of ‘the Final Word of God’ cannot be final. It can
only be transitory and limited by our own abilities and understanding. It gives
us intimations of the divine, the mind of God, but by definition, however per-
fectable we may think humankind is, we are not and cannot be the mind of
God. Absolute understanding, absolute certainty, infallible knowledge—these
are not attributes of humanity; our lot is wrestling with our all too evident
limitations. Therefore, the ‘Word of God’ is not beyond question: only through
questioning the text can we tease out possible answers to our moral dilemmas.
This is precisely why one of the most insistent commands in the Qur’an is to
think and reflect. The struggle to understand and interpret Scripture is per-
petual. The Qur’an does not change, but the circumstances of human life, the
potential of our thought and action, the social, economic, technological, envi-
ronmental and political conditions of our times are ever changing. As well as
requiring us to think, the words of the Qur’an also imply movement: the reli-
gious life, it tells us, is not about standing still, but always striving to make our
life, our society, the entire world around us a better place for everyone, all of
God’s creation without exception. And that means we have to keep on asking
what the Sacred Text can, should or ought to mean, and how it could or should
apply in the circumstances of today.
The Sacred Text of Islam has no significance for us outside our own time.
The significance and meaning of the verses of the Qur’an have to be rediscov-
10
THE QUR’AN AND ME
ered by each generation in the context of its own time. Things change, contexts
change, and old meanings, the customs born of old interpretations, far from
liberating you can actually suffocate you; or worse, can be turned into means
to oppress or oppose other people, whether fellow Muslims or not.
I have come to see the Qur’an as a text that simultaneously promotes think-
ing and doing. It is a dynamic text whose relevance and implications for our
time we have yet to discover fully. It is a text that demands us to stand up for
justice and equity irrespective of circumstances. It is a text that seeks change
not through revolution but through renovation and evolution of human
thought and action. It is a text that urges communities constantly to scrutinise
themselves and guard against all forms of inhumanity. It is a text that polishes
the souls of individuals so that their humanity can shine.
The Qur’an does not yield its meaning without a struggle with its text. To
see the significance of an allegory or metaphor, to separate the truth from the
simile, the eternal from the transient, the universal from the local, one has to
struggle with words and concepts, contexts and interconnections, and the
structure and style of the Qur’an. This is not an easy or a quick task. It requires
effort and patience. But reading the Qur’an, as I discovered, can be very
rewarding. It surpassed all my expectations.
11
2
STYLE AND STRUCTURE
Expectations tend to condition our reactions. Think of the hype involved in

adverts for the latest film releases: they string together some of the best bits,
so that we expect fireworks throughout. But the edited highlights bear little
relation to the whole, which turns out to be a damp squib. The result is not
just disappointment but a sense of being cheated of our justified expectations.
So, before we start our exploration of the Qur’an, let me say some words of
caution by way of conditioning your expectations.
Clearly Muslims and non-Muslims approach the Qur’an with different
expectations. The distinction is significant. The definition of a Muslim is a
person who believes the Qur’an to be the direct word of God as communicated
to the Prophet Muhammad. Therefore, Muslims approach the Qur’an with an
implicit acceptance of its style and nature. It would be inconceivable to start
with the question ‘Why isn’t God telling me a simple story with a beginning,
a middle and an end?’ This is not to suggest that Muslims should not question;
it is merely to point out that our questions start from a different point. For
example, Muslims normally would not raise the question of authorship of the
Sacred Text; they start with the assumption that it is God who is speaking to
us through the Qur’an. Moreover, they regard both the structure and the style
of the Qur’an as a part of its Divine origins. So the questions that Muslims
would ask are focused on the meaning and understanding we should take from
the nature and style of our Holy Book.
Non-Muslims would naturally question the Divine origins of the Qur’an.
They may ascribe its authorship to Muhammad. They may raise other questions
about its authenticity, its origins and its contents. They would approach the
13
Qur’an with the Torah and Bible in mind; and get very perplexed because the
Qur’an is not like that at all. The Torah and the Old Testament begin with
God’s creation of the universe and all it contains, and then proceed with a
straightforward history of the people of Israel and their prophets. The New
Testament begins with the Gospels, which give a number of chronological
accounts of the life of Jesus as the central narrative thread through which his
teachings are presented, and then turns to the development of early Christian-
ity. The Qur’an provides neither a chronology of God’s revelations to humanity
nor a linear narrative of the life and times of Prophet Muhammad. Non-Mus-
lims thus find its style not just confusing but incomprehensible.
Whatever questions arise about the Qur’an, and however coherent or con-
fusing we find its content, there are a couple of things both Muslims and non-
Muslims can agree on. As a book that shapes the lives and outlook of a quarter
of mankind, what the Qur’an says, the meanings we find in its pages, its con-
temporary relevance, are important for all of us. In an interconnected, globa-
lised world, we are all going to be affected, directly or indirectly, by how the
Qur’an is read by the majority of Muslims. And we can all agree that the struc-
ture and style of the Qur’an is complex. It defies expectations of being a simple
story, and therefore raises questions about how and why it is structured as it
is, and what we should understand from this arrangement.
The Qur’an is definitely not a chronological text. For example, the first
verses revealed to the Prophet Muhammad are not at the beginning but are
found in the 96th chapter of the Qur’an (96:1–5). The last revelation comes in
the 3rd verse of the 5th (5:3) of the Qur’an’s 114 chapters, or suras. Moreover,
the Qur’an does not deal with its subjects in one place but in several places,
dropping them suddenly and then picking them up later in the text. It says one
thing on one subject in one place, and something different on the same subject
elsewhere. All of this makes it difficult to make sense of the Qur’an.
Sound plays a very important part in the structure of the Qur’an. Before it
was a written text, the Qur’an existed as sound; this is why it is often compared
to an epic poem. But I like to think of it in terms of a musical symphony. Just
as the melodic themes in a symphony may be repeated, so the verses in the
Qur’an are frequently repeated. Just as misplaced notes may play havoc with
the whole symphony, so a misreading of the Qur’an throws the whole text out
of sync. This is why Muslims pay so much attention to the correct reading of
the Qur’an.
We know that Prophet Muhammad, like most of his community in Mecca,
was illiterate. His response to the first word of revelation, ‘Iqra’ ’ (‘Read’), was
14
STYLE AND STRUCTURE
‘I cannot’. But an illiterate community is skilled in the oral tradition, the ability
to commit words to memory. Muhammad repeated each revelation to his
growing circle of followers, who committed the words to memory. He recited
the growing body of the Qur’an in prayers, which is how the characteristic
form of Muslim prayer developed. The Qur’an uses a heightened form of Ara-
bic, unlike any other Arabic text in its language and use of language. The lan-
guage of the Qur’an stretched the oral traditions of the society, but also utilised
its conventions in its strong sound and metrical forms, which enabled the
growing community of believers to assimilate and memorise the words. Even
to this day, millions of Muslims continue to commit the entire Qur’an to
memory. Listening to Qur’an recitation is a popular art form, one in which
the entire audience would be aware of any mistake that disturbed the sound
structure as much as it would the meaning of what is being recited.
However, even though the Qur’an was revealed orally, and it was memorised
by the Prophet and his followers, it is also a written text. The Qur’an refers to
itself as kitab, or book, that is something that is designed to be written and
bound together as a single volume. Indeed, making a written record of the
verses of the Qur’an as they were revealed was common practice amongst the
literate companions of the Prophet. There were also a number of scribes spe-
cially commissioned to write down the revealed verses who worked with
Muhammad to arrange these written texts in the proper order. According to
Muslim historians, Prophet Muhammad himself arranged the verses, as they
were revealed, in the final structure, often instructing his scribes to ‘place this
verse (or these verses) in the sura where such-and-such is mentioned’. But the
Prophet died before he could bind all the chapters of the Qur’an into a written
master volume.
The years after the death of Prophet Muhammad saw a rapid expansion of
the Muslim community far beyond the confines of Arabia. Where Muslims
went, they took the Qur’an with them, both in oral and written form. But it
became clear that textual variations were beginning to appear in different parts
of what was becoming the Muslim world. Both the first two caliphs, Abu Bakr
(r. 632–4) and Umar (r. 634–44), the immediate successors of Muhammad,
wanted a single authorised version to be produced. But it was Othman (r.
644–56), the third Caliph, who took decisive action. He established a com-
mittee of twelve companions of the Prophet and gave them the responsibility
for assembling an authoritative text to be written down exactly as the Prophet
had recited it. This committee comprised people who had learned the recita-
tion of Qur’an from the Prophet, as well as the scribes who had compiled writ-
15
ten texts under his guidance. They consulted with many more of those still
living who had heard the Prophet and committed the Qur’an to memory. The
product of the committee’s work is the text called Othman’s mushaf, or codex,
completed by 652 and distributed throughout the Muslim world.
There are, as one would expect, lots of scholarly disputes about exactly how
the final text was produced [6]. Slight differences exist between Muslim schol-
ars; Western scholars have a wide range of views and differences, some even
suggesting that the Qur’an was compiled over 200 years after the death of the
Prophet [7]. But these differences of opinion and scholarly concerns do not,
and cannot, change the reality that Muslims regard Othman’s mushaf as the
standard, authoritative and final text of the Qur’an. It is the Qur’an as known
to all Muslims today.
The Qur’an was revealed piecemeal, over a period of twenty-three years, from
610 to 632. The Prophet received his first revelations when he was in Mecca,
where he stayed for another thirteen years. The suras revealed during this period
are known as Meccan Suras. We can divide the Meccan period of the Prophet’s
life into two phases. During the first phase, which lasts about five years, the
Prophet had only a handful of followers. He preached in secret to those who
clustered around him. The verses revealed during this period—short, replete
with rhyme and assonance—are concerned with the inner substance of faith,
worship and spiritual pursuits; they deal with such subjects as the attributes of
God, the nature of monotheism, accountability and judgement in the Hereafter,
issues of justice, human virtues and the importance of good conduct. This is
followed by a period of eight years during which the Prophet openly and actively
propagated his message and faced a hostile reception from the Quraysh, the
dominant tribe of Mecca. He and his followers were persecuted, some were
ostracised, some forced to flee to Abyssinia, and some were tortured and killed.
Faced with stubborn and violent opposition, the Prophet had little option but
to be patient, persevere with his preaching, and continue to repeat the essentials
of his message, again and again, from different perspectives and viewpoints, and
with different examples relating the historic experience of the Arabs themselves.
Repetition and reiteration are thus most prevalent in the verses revealed during
this period. When life in Mecca became unbearable, in the year 622 the Prophet
migrated to the city of Medina, where he was welcomed. The nature and style
of the revelation thus changes once again.
The Prophet lived in Medina till his death, some ten years after the hijra, or
migration. The suras revealed in Medina are known, naturally, as Medinan
Suras. It is the hijra and not the beginning of Muhammad’s prophetic mission
16
STYLE AND STRUCTURE
which is taken as the beginning of the Islamic calendar. The dating of the events
of Muslim history commences from 622, often written as years AH (Anno
Hegirae), because the migration marks a seminal shift. During his time in
Medina, the Prophet was busy establishing a community with the necessary
social order and the basic instruments of governance. He had become the
leader of a substantial and growing community, eager to put the basic princi-
ples of Islam they had learned into practice. But his enemies in Mecca had still
to be curbed, relations had to be established with non-Muslim communities
in Medina and elsewhere, and his followers encouraged to lead the good life.
So the tenor, style and content of revelation changes in Medina. The Medinan
Suras tend to deal with issues of communal law (marriage, divorce and inheri-
tance), bonds within the community (between parents and children, young
and old, men and women), relations between different communities (particu-
larly Jews and Christian), conflict and peace building.
There are eighty-five Meccan and twenty-nine Medinan Suras. However,
the non-linear structure of the Qur’an is such that many suras contain passages
from both periods. The longer Medinan Suras are found at the beginning of
the Qur’an; the shorter Meccan Suras tend to be towards the end of the Sacred
Text. A sura is said to be Meccan if its early verses were revealed in Mecca, even
if it contains many verses revealed in Medina; and vice versa. The distinction
between the Meccan and Medinan Suras could be described as a journey from
‘why’, the ultimate nature of faith and worship, to the ‘how’, the translation of
faith into a form of living that is the practice of religion. The arrangement of
the Qur’an with the Medinan Suras coming first puts this journey the other
way round, moving from how to why. The presence of both Meccan and Medi-
nan verses in many suras suggests that ‘why’ and ‘how’ are not discrete poles:
both are necessary and interwoven in complex relationships across the whole
gamut of existence; that we are forever journeying between these two dynamics
to find the proper balance.
Muslims see the structure of the Qur’an as a sign of its Divine nature. It is
considered a mechanism for developing a deeper understanding of the Qur’an.
This explains why this aspect of the Qur’an has received serious attention from
Muslim scholars. Structures of individual chapters, pairs of chapters and groups
of chapters have been explored in detail. Indeed, some Muslim scholars have
even suggested that the Qur’an has other levels of structural organisation. For
example, the noted Pakistani scholar Amin Ahsan Islahi (1904–97) suggests
that the chapters of the Qur’an can be arranged in seven groups, each group
containing Meccan verses followed by Medinan verses. This additional struc-
17
tural layer, Islahi argues, has thematic significance and is important for devel-
oping fresh interpretations of the Qur’an [8].
But for non-Muslims the structure of the Qur’an, with its non-chronological
order, non-linear arrangement, non-narrative organisation, can be a major
source of confusion. The bewilderment is well articulated by the protagonist
of Margaret Drabble’s A Natural Curiosity [9]. After reading a rather bad trans-
lation of the Qur’an, he asks his wife: ‘How can you understand the minds of
people who don’t respect sequence?’ ‘I am sure there must be some kind of
sequence’, she replies. But, of course, it is not necessary for texts or, as the
French philosopher Michel Foucault would have said, ‘things’ to have order as
understood by the West to have meaning and significance. The barrier to
understanding is not in the text but in the expectations and assumptions that
there is only one possible normality, just one way of thinking and knowing
about the world and that anything which deviates from this norm must by
definition be both inferior and wrong-headed. It is the failure of a monocul-
tural imagination.
Equally problematic is the question of who is actually speaking in the
Qur’an. The speaker is God. But, as some of my non-Muslims friends have told
me, they are often confused why the speaker changes from the first person sin-
gular (‘I’) to the first person plural (‘we’) to the third person singular (‘He’).
For Muslim readers this is not a problem; they know that it is the voice of God
who can refer to him/herself however he/she chooses. But for non-Muslim
readers, and certain Western scholars, these changes are a barrier to making
sense of the text. Some Western thinkers believe that ‘We’ refers to angels, ‘I’
to the Prophet Muhammad, and ‘He’ to either an angel or the Prophet when
talking about God. Others have suggested that the Prophet ‘slipped up’ and
used these different ‘voices’ by mistake—and that, as he was revealing his text
over time, he simply forgot what he had said a year or two ago. But we need
not pay much attention to these suggestions. A close examination actually
reveals a simple pattern.
‘We’ is used in passages where God’s majesty, might and magnificence are
being shown. These verses are intended to generate awe and wonder at God’s
majesty. ‘He’ is used in passages where particular phenomena are being
described. These verses are meant to inculcate belief in and worship of one
God. The ‘I’ is used in specific circumstances: when, for example, intimacy is
implied, often at a crucial moment in history where Muslims face trial and
tribulation: ‘When you begged your Lord for help, He answered you, “I will
reinforce you with a thousand angels in succession”’ (8:9). These words are
18
STYLE AND STRUCTURE
intimate and there is a promise of protection from God. Other specific cir-
cumstances include when judgement is made, where the third (more imper-
sonal tone) changes to the first person; or when an oath is being made, ‘I swear’,
the first person singular is used and then changes to the plural form to illustrate
God’s magnificence and power. It is worth noting that the Qur’an never has
‘Oh Thou Muhammad’, only ‘Oh Thou’. The significance of this, as Neil Rob-
inson [10] has pointed out, is that the message is not limited in time and space.
‘Thou’ could be anyone—and anyone can be addressed by God.
While appreciating the problems that the style and structure of the Qur’an
produce for non-Muslims, the point I would like to make is that the Qur’an
has its own logic. This is not the binary, Aristotelian logic we are all familiar
with—which, by the way, was re-introduced to the West by Muslims—but a
different, multi-fold, one could say higher form of logic, which reveals itself
in different forms the more one struggles and engages with the Qur’an. Thus,
if you are looking for ‘sequence’ in the Qur’an, you would be disappointed.
However, if you were looking for lessons, then one form of the logic that deter-
mines the structure of the Qur’an will reveal itself.
The Qur’an says it is a guidance, a teaching. And what is the first principle
of pedagogy? Whatever the subject, you begin with the basics, then in later
years you return to particular topics and acquire more information and insight.
Education is the process of gaining a deeper, more profound understanding.
The structure of the Qur’an unfolds similarly, I can say from my own experi-
ences, as a series of lessons. This makes sense on a number of levels. Episodic
lessons are much easier to assimilate, especially for its initial audience in a
largely illiterate community, who would be helped by the sound and metrical
properties of the language in which the Qur’an is expressed. Then over time
the lessons became more complex, with additional ideas being introduced and
inserted in already known passages. But, as we all know, not all lessons can be
mastered easily, or are learned when they should be learned, so they have to be
repeated. Hence we find the frequent repetition of certain lessons and prin-
ciples in the Qur’an. Moreover, certain subjects are taught during early years
in such simplified versions that they do not tell the whole story [11]. In later
years, these lessons have to be overhauled to introduce and deal with complex-
ity. This is why certain verses in the Qur’an, revealed earlier, seem to contradict
other verses which were revealed later. The contradiction is in fact an accom-
modation of complexity to generate a broader picture.
The Qur’an teaches through the use of a diversity of material. Apart from
the Prophet Muhammad and his community, it refers to stories from the lives
19
of previous prophets, such as Musa (Moses), Ibrahim (Abraham), Nuh (Noah)

and Lot as well as Isa ( Jesus), familiar from the Torah and Bible. It frequently
refers to history and the rise and fall of empires. It refers to the creation of the
universe and uses examples from the natural world. It employs parables, meta-
phors and allegories to explain both moral principles and things beyond direct
human experience. And it concerns itself with the practicalities of how a soci-
ety should reform and organise itself internally and in its relations with other
people to advance in ethical behaviour and righteousness. But it does not treat
these themes as one-off lessons. The Qur’an returns to these themes a number
of times, on each occasion adding some new information or insight or offering
a slightly different perspective to provide new food for thought and deeper
understanding.
Learning involves a great deal of thinking. And the Qur’an constantly urges
its readers to think, ponder and reflect. But it is asking for much more than a
conventional, one-dimensional process of cause and effect or sequential analy-
sis. It is suggesting that we should reflect on our perspective which can hide
certain views, make far-off things appear close and complex things appear
simple. Thinking requires synthesis as well as reduction. When the Qur’an
urges its readers to seek understanding, it is not simply the understanding of
the world around us. It is also the understanding of our inner world of feeling
and experience, love and emotion, self and the soul. When the Qur’an asks us
to look at the cosmos and reflect, it is suggesting we look at the interconnec-
tion of things, how everything is connected to everything else. In modern
parlance, the Qur’an is asking us to think ‘outside the box’ and beyond binary
logic. Indeed, the very structure and style of the Qur’an, I find, insistently
points to necessary relationships, to the need to think of things not in separate
compartments but as involved and integrated with each other. We are being
guided towards a multidimensional rather than a one-dimensional approach
to all aspects of life. But equally, I never cease to be amazed at how easily and
readily Muslims reduce this complexity to a simplistic list of dos and don’ts.
The Qur’an does not ask me to accept anything passively; rather it invites
me to engage actively in a process of questioning and reasoning. It is the only
way, I think, of approaching and interpreting the Qur’an in our time, here
and now.
20
3
APPROACH AND INTERPRETATIONS
On one level, the Qur’an is an easy book to read. Most pious Muslims read it
every day as a devotional exercise. But devotional reading, while a form of
prayer, does not take us very far in understanding what we read. Overemphasis
on devotion can also lead to a rather simplistic position on the Qur’an. As
Mona Siddiqui notes in How to Read the Qur’an, most Muslims believe that
the Qur’an is ‘a closed book which one can only read, recite and obey’ [12].
But obedience requires knowing what kind of society the Qur’an seeks, appre-
ciating the distinction between the universal and particular, and understanding
how a society adjusts and maintains its basic outlook in the face of rapid social,
cultural and environmental changes. The power and guidance of the Qur’an,
as Siddiqui notes, emerges when it is read and interpreted in the light of new
and changing situations. But reading the Qur’an from the viewpoint of chang-
ing situations is rare indeed. On the whole, traditional interpretations of the
Qur’an pay little attention to changes in society.
A complex text, particularly one that is seen as eternal, can be interpreted
in a number of different ways. Not surprisingly, Muslims have approached and
interpreted the Qur’an from a host of different perspectives: theological, devo-
tional, literary, literal, legal, allegorical, rhetorical, mystical or philosophical as
well as from purely sectarian outlooks. Western scholars have approached the
Sacred Text critically, sympathetically, caustically, and sometimes with the
intention of undermining it. The South African Muslim scholar Farid Esack
has proposed an interesting topology of different approaches [13]. He suggests
that the Qur’an is seen and approached as a female body of exquisite beauty.
In most cultures the female body is seen as a passive object, a subject of the
21
male gaze. The Qur’an too is often read as though it was a passive text; and
most of its interpreters are men.
In general, Esack says, Muslim scholars approach the Qur’an as their
beloved. There is the uncritical lover who totally loses himself in the text. Mys-
tical interpretations of the Qur’an, such as those of the great Andalusian mystic
ibn al-Arabi (1165–1240) and Turkish Sufi Jalaluddin Rumi (1207–73),
would fit this category. The scholarly lover wants to tell the whole world why
his beloved is the most sublime. Confessional interpreters, old and new, fall in
this group. Examples would include the classical commentary of Jalal al-Din
al-Suyuti (d. 1505) and the contemporary exegesis of Abul Ala Mawdudi
(1903–79), the founder of the Jamat-e-Islami. The critical lover seeks commit-
ment and is willing to ask difficult questions about his relationship with his
beloved. Here, Pakistani thinker Fazlur Rahman (1911–88) and the French
linguistic philosopher Mohammed Arkoun (b. 1928– ) fit the bill. The lovers
also have friends who take a keen interest in their relationship. These are West-
ern scholars, such as Montgomery Watt (1909–2006) and Kenneth Cragg
(1913– ), who accept the general contours of the Muslim approach to the
Qur’an and study it as received scripture. Where there is a female body there
are bound to be voyeurs. So we have a string of other scholars who are openly
hostile to the Qur’an and everything it stands for.
I would say that I am the argumentative lover. I think the Qur’an should
be approached through questions and arguments. That’s what the text itself
demands. The Qur’an is full of questions: ‘How can you worship something
other than God?’, ‘How did this happen?’, ‘Have you considered?’, ‘Have you
heard?’, ‘What are they asking about?’ And it is jam-packed with debate—
particularly in the longer suras. Clearly, God loves a good argument. Perhaps
the most important question to consider is: what is the Qur’an asking us to
do now? The potential answers would lead to numerous arguments. Given
that Muslims see the Qur’an as a living, dynamic entity—which is what Esack
argues beyond his analogy—it is not an argument that could be settled once
and for all. It is an ongoing debate whose contours change with changing
circumstances.
New circumstances would raise a host of new questions, all of them leading
to new arguments. But the Qur’an does not give definite, yes or no, answers to
our questions. It provides certain principles, the essentials of a moral and ethi-
cal framework, allegory and metaphors that hint at direction as a guide to
discovering viable solutions. Beyond question, not everything is settled and
laid out in the Qur’an. It is up to the reader to wrestle with the text and find
the answers.
22
Yet, today there are Muslims who advocate, or allow themselves to be con-
vinced by, a literal reading of the Qur’an; worse, they insist that this literalism
contains all the answers necessary to live in the twenty-first century. This belief
is not just limited to narrow-minded circles and particular strains of thought.
It is also a common position of most intellectuals who support various strands
of the ‘Islamic movements’ as well as various conservative and traditionalist
brands of Islam. If all the answers to the questions of our changing world were
readily available in the Qur’an, Muslim societies would be a beacon of progress
and would not be in their current dire positions. If all was as clear as daylight,
there would not be so many sects and so many different, contradictory and
divergent views within Islam. If literalism is all that we require, there would
be no reason for the emergence of the vast body of intellectual work accumu-
lated over the centuries devoted to the interpretation of the Qur’an.
In fact, the Qur’an had to be interpreted immediately after the death of the
Prophet Muhammad. He was succeeded by four men known and accepted by
all Muslims as the Rightly Guided Caliphs. Abu Bakr (632–4), Umar
(634–44), Uthman (644–56) and Ali (656–61) had all learned the Qur’an
directly from the Prophet, had listened to him teaching, explaining and decid-
ing matters for the community. And yet when they became leaders they found
many questions on which they were unsure of the exact meaning and import
of what the Qur’an said, or how to apply and implement its teaching in a
changing and expanding society and hence what decision to take. It became
their practice to call upon other companions and ask for their opinion, under-
standing and interpretation. The need for interpretation increased with the
second generation of Muslims, who included diverse populations of non-Ar-
abs. Political conflict, sectarian divisions, and the expansion of Islam to Iraq,
Persia and Egypt, all led to the need for and development of Qur’anic inter-
pretation. By the beginning of the ninth century, interpretation, or tafsir, had
been established as a fully-fledged discipline with its own principles, methods
and knowledge base (Usul al-Tafsir).
On the basis of this scholarship, distinctions were made between the con-
textual, what was specific to the particular time and place of revelation, and
the general principles of the Qur’an’s message which were eternal, timeless and
relevant in any place or circumstance. A set of procedures was established for
reasoning by analogy from the specific to the general. One specific discipline
that emerged from the outset of Muslim history was the dating and study of
the circumstances in which each verse of the Qur’an was revealed. It was agreed
that to understand the questions as well as the meaning of the Qur’an it was
23
necessary to know as much as possible about when and why a particular verse
was revealed. Despite a disciplinary core on which most scholars agreed, dif-
ferences of opinion on issues of interpretation were common.
One particular procedure that emerged for settling differences of opinion
among scholars was consensus. Consensus, or ijma‘, was seen as the best way
to arrive at decisions. Now, consensus is an agreement arrived at after debate
among a diversity of opinions, and by definition it is an act of interpretation
arrived at by a community, whether all believers or a select group of learned
scholars. To accept consensus does not necessarily preclude differences in
emphasis and application. But relying too heavily on the consensus of learned
opinion can mean relegating the ongoing dynamic effort to reason with the
meaning of the Qur’an. In which case, those who rely on the received consen-
sus of ancient scholars are effectively saying that the timeless and eternal
became fixed and unchanging many centuries ago, no matter what changes
have happened since. It also means that interpretation based on the opinion
of a select group of ordinary, though often gifted, scholars has a monopoly on
understanding the Qur’an. I think this is not a tenable position.
However, my problem is not with the basic principles of exegesis developed
by classical commentators. I think they are as important today as they have
ever been, largely because they are eminently reasonable, indeed, prescient of
just the kind of methodology necessary in any age for sound scholarship. Con-
temporary interpretations that take change into account have to start with
these principles.
First, the guiding principle accepted by traditional scholars was that the
Qur’an is an integrated text. Not only is it complete and applicable for all time,
but it is internally consistent and the whole of the Book must be considered
to arrive at a sound understanding. Another way of saying this is that the mes-
sage of the Qur’an is concerned to establish the right relationships between
different things to achieve the best possible end here and hereafter. So each
verse in the Qur’an is connected to every other verse and has to be seen in the
spirit of the whole text.
Second, the main source for the interpretation of the Qur’an is the Qur’an
itself. This is a natural corollary of the first principle. Thus, when a word or a
particular verse of the Qur’an can be clarified or interpreted by another, then
recourse to an external source becomes superfluous.
Third, the most important source of understanding and interpretation out-
side the Qur’an is the life of the Prophet Muhammad. The Prophet was not
only the recipient of revelation but embodied the revelation in the way he
24
lived. As such, his Sunna, life, practice and custom, are a living commentary
on the Qur’an. So, the interpretation of its verses, many of which address the
Prophet directly, has to be based on and seen in the context of what was hap-
pening to the Prophet.
Fourth, the early scholars accepted local custom in widely differing parts of
the Muslim World as valid sources of interpretation and application of
Qur’anic principles. This point is almost totally neglected nowadays, but in
my opinion it is an important principle. It means that all human activity and
ideas need to be tested against the coherent standard of Qur’anic principle.
When this is done, many customs, many forms of organisation of human activ-
ity, many ways of thinking and acting, can fulfil or comply with Qur’anic prin-
ciples. In other words, there is more than one way to be a good Muslim;
ultimately Islam is not a brand name that belongs exclusively to Muslims. It is
equally possible for Muslims to behave in unIslamic ways as it is for non-Mus-
lims to behave Islamicly!
Classical commentaries, or tafsir, were based on these principles. Their basic
methodology was to go through the Qur’an systematically, verse by verse,
bringing together all that is known and relevant to interpreting the individual
verse. Each verse was subjected to a series of questions: Was it, or the sura of
which it was a part, revealed in Mecca or Medina? What prompted its revela-
tion? What was happening at the time of its revelation in the life of the Prophet
Muhammad? Are there specific traditions of the Prophet related to this verse?
What are its particular grammatical features? Why is there repetition of words
or phrases? Does the verse continue to have a legal implication, or has it been
abrogated? Renowned commentators such as al Tabari (838–923), who pro-
duced one of the earliest commentaries, and Fakhruddin Razi (1149–1209),
start from the first verse and continue all the way to the last, interrogating each
verse with these and other similar questions. Their explanations rely largely on
one part of the Qur’an to explain another part, and, quite extensively, on the
traditions of the Prophet. Contemporary traditionalist commentators such
as Sayyid Qutb and Abul Ala Mawdudi follow the traditional encyclopaedic
verse-by-verse method, while infusing their commentaries with ideological
fervour.
We owe a great deal to classical commentaries. They are rightly seen as a
literary genre providing the exegesis of the Qur’an within well defined param-
eters and boundaries of knowledge. By bringing out the style and idiom of the
Qur’an, its literal and metaphorical use of language, the traditional commen-
taries have played a vital role in increasing our understanding of the Qur’an. I
25
find it particularly stimulating to look at how a group of classical commenta-

tors, from varied backgrounds and schools of thought, interpret the same verse.
The exercise has become much easier nowadays with the availability of antholo-
gies of classical commentaries. Mahmoud Ayoub’s The Qur’an and Its Interpret-
ers [14], for example, enables one to compare the commentaries of thirteen
classical authors, including ibn Kathir, ibn Arabi, al-Tabari, as well as, surpris-
ingly, the twentieth-century tafsir of Sayyid Qutb. The more recent An Anthol-
ogy of Qur’anic Commentaries [15] brings together twenty commentators,
classical works of Sunni, Shia, Ismaeli, Sufi and rationalist scholars, as well as
more recent commentaries of Mohammad Abduh (1849–1905), Rashid Rida
(1865–1935) and Abul Ala Mawdudi. These anthologies are a rich storehouse
of interpretation; and they have a great deal to teach us on spiritual matters.
But I find the argumentative nature of the Qur’an tends to get lost in tradi-
tional commentaries. Where arguments do come into play they tend to be
arguments from authority and obscurantist theology, which are not always
based on thought and reason. The evidence sometimes put forward to justify
particular positions defies every kind of logic. And the language, to be honest,
leaves me cold.
But, my personal difficulties apart, there are serious problems with the clas-
sical verse-by-verse interpretation of the Qur’an. There is the obvious problem
that focusing on the meaning of individual verses inevitably leads both Mus-
lims and non-Muslims to believe that it is the only proper way to interpret the
Qur’an. Notice how often Muslims brandish just one verse of the Qur’an as if
it is an answer to everything in and of itself or, even worse, a justification for
the unjustifiable. Non-Muslims also pick up particular verses from the Qur’an
to prove that Islam does not come up to their standards. A good example is
the famous verse, used by fictional as well as real terrorists, to justify violence.
In films such as Rules of Engagement, for example, the terrorists claim that the
Qur’an commands Muslims to kill ‘the infidel’ Americans, their allies, includ-
ing civilians, and plunder their possessions. This message is repeated in a string
of films such as True Lies, Executive Action and The Siege, going right back
to Khartoum [16]. Real terrorists, including Osama bin Laden [17] and al-
Qaeda operatives, also quote this verse to justify their nefarious actions. The
same is true of the Taliban and other fundamentalist groups, in Britain and
abroad. The verse they cite reads: ‘We will put terror into the hearts of the
unbelievers. They serve other gods for whom no sanction has been revealed.
Hell shall be their home.’ (3:149). Now, how are we to communicate to these
people that the apparent meaning attributed to this verse could not be further
26
from the true spirit of the Qur’an? The verse in fact addresses the Prophet him-
self. It was revealed during the battle of Uhud (625) when the small and ill-
equipped army of the Prophet faced a much larger and well-equipped enemy.
He was concerned about the outcome of the battle. The Qur’an reassures him
and promises that the enemy will be terrified by the Prophet’s unprofessional
army. Seen in its context, it is not a general instruction to all Muslims, but a
commentary on what was happening at that time. However, this background
is lost on those who think, and have been brought up to think, that the normal
way to read and discover meaning in the Qur’an is simply to pluck verses out
of context.
The Pakistani-American scholar Fazlur Rahman dubbed this approach as
‘atomistic’. It was responsible, he argued, for the widespread tendency towards
literalism. The verse-by-verse commentaries, he wrote, ‘do not yield an effective
“Weltanschauung” that is cohesive and meaningful for life as a whole’ [18].
That, I believe, is a crucial problem. While Muslims insist that they live by the
Qur’an, they often exist in a fragmented, atomised world where ethics and
morality are disconnected from their daily lives as well as their social and legal
concerns. There is little awareness, let alone appreciation, of the worldview that
the Qur’an seeks to foster.
Rahman also argues that it is not good enough simply to look at the life of
Prophet Muhammad for interpretation. We need to go beyond the Sunna and
see the role played by the social and historical conditions of Mecca and Med-
ina. ‘The Qur’an is like the tip of an iceberg’, he writes, ‘nine-tenths of which
is submerged under the water of history and only one-tenth of which is visible.
No one who has attempted to understand the Qur’an seriously can deny that
much of the Qur’an presupposes a knowledge of the historical situation to
which its statements provide solution, comments and responses.’ Thus, mean-
ingful interpretation should involve examination of ‘the customs, institutions
and general way of life’ of Arabia during the time of the revelation. In a similar
vein, Abdullah Saeed argues that knowing the social and cultural conditions
of the Prophet’s Arabia is essential for understanding why the Qur’an allowed
certain provisions, such as polygamy, in the seventh-century Hijaz which have
no relevance in contemporary times.
There is one final point. Whatever the merits of classical commentaries, they
tell us little about the relevance of the Qur’an to our own time. Traditional
methodology, as Saeed argues so cogently, cannot cope with the enormous
challenges of contemporary times. Neither is a sensible commentary on the
Qur’an possible without taking the needs and requirements of our times into
27
consideration. As human beings, we can only engage with the Qur’an, and
interpret it, according to our own contemporary understanding. It has to make
sense to us as ordinary mortals here and now; it has to have significance for us
in the light of our needs and requirements in current times; it has to guide us
through the moral, ethical and spiritual dilemmas of today. So, the context of
our time is equally important for its interpretation. Thus, we have to approach
the Qur’an from the perspective of how morality on, for example, such issues
as gender equality and environmental concerns has evolved in our own time,
and engage with the text in the light of our changing circumstances.
The Qur’an provides the essential basics of morality on which we have to
build and expand in ever widening horizons. That is exactly what exploring the
Qur’an in a contemporary context is all about. For many Muslims this prospect
raises a whole series of concerns that have been inculcated by history. Islam has
increasingly become a redoubt to be defended by conservative and preservative
traditionalism. Further, defining and observing in practice an idealised tradi-
tionalism offers religion as a badge of identity, a supposedly inherited persona
in the face of depersonalising mass society. By relying on classical commenta-
tors, inherited opinion has elevated the original community, the Medina state
of the Prophet Muhammad, to that of a timeless ideal. Clearly the Qur’an was
revealed, preached, and its precepts applied to address the imperfections of the
time and place of Prophet Muhammad. The reformative programme, the pro-
cess of becoming Muslim, worked upon the specifics of the social, cultural,
economic and political norms of sixth-century Arabia. But how is it sensible
to equate Islam with keeping consonant with what are supposedly the norms
and problems of the sixth century in the twenty-first century, which has more
than enough problems of its own? The answer many Muslims give is that tra-
ditionalism is a bulwark against redefining religion according to our own needs
and desires, allowing the exigencies of our time and place to tailor religion
rather than the other way around. To substantiate this argument, one would
have to be very sure that the circumstances and cultural context of classical
interpreters who devised so much of what is termed ‘traditional’ were not simi-
larly influenced. And the evidence of careful study shows that, however much
one can appreciate the reasonableness of the principles they established in
application, in the synthesis of interpretation they produced they were people
of their own time and place. So, far from traditionalism getting us to a pure,
unsullied practice of original religion good for all time, what is defended as
‘Islamic tradition’ is redolent of the minds, social, cultural and intellectual
predilections and proclivities of various times and places in Muslim history.
28
Tradition is made by many hands. It is a work of both thought and action. And
tradition can be remade, can become a matter of doing differently by applying
the same principles and exercising the same discretion as previous generations
of Muslims. The acid test is not how closely we resemble our ancestors, but
how well we apply the moral and ethical principles of religion to problems of
our own day to achieve a better outcome for not just our own community but
the whole of humanity and the world in which we coexist.
This also means that no interpretation of the Qur’an is itself absolute and
forever. All interpretation is limited and time-bound. The meaning of the
Qur’an is not fixed, even though it is universal. While some Muslims see clas-
sical commentaries as written in stone, the suggestion itself is not new. All
generations stand in the same interpretive relationship to the Qur’an. The
inspiration and interpretations we draw from the Qur’an constantly return us
to the Divine source to think and reflect and be prepared to do things differ-
ently, to change and be changed, to remain consistent to the meaning of the
eternal message of the Qur’an.
For me, this is the most profound and dynamic of all outlooks with which
to approach and interpret the Qur’an. It calls for rational, considered thought
and interrogation not of appearances but of the deeper implications and mean-
ing of how human beings think and act within and between all the diversity
of our cultures, histories, languages and beliefs. It requires just as intense scru-
tiny of the traditions and customs we inherit as Muslim history and norms as
of those of non-Muslim society. Most of all it places all humanity in an inter-
connected world in the same position, just as the Qur’an itself argues. And
therefore it ought to focus our attention on the challenge the Qur’an places
before a diverse world: to find ways to cooperate and work together to make
the world a better place, more just and equitable for everyone, since everyone
and everything is equally part of God’s creation, and all of us will be judged on
how we have lived our life.
Seeking the contemporary relevance of the Qur’an requires, to some extent,
going against tradition. However, standing against traditional interpretations
that have shaped the outlook of Muslims for centuries, and have acquired a
sacred/eternal aura, is not easy. Traditionalists of all varieties, scholars as well
as ordinary Muslims, regard challenges to classical authorities with particular
hostility. And that antagonism begins with a basic question: what authority
do you have to speak about, let alone interpret, the Qur’an?
29
4
QUESTIONS OF AUTHORITY
Who should comment on and interpret the Qur’an? This seems like an innocu-
ous question. The straightforward answer is that all those who read the Qur’an
should be able to comment on its content and offer an understanding, however
simple, of its verses. Reading is always an interpretative act; so those who read
the Qur’an are also simultaneously interpreting it, at least for themselves if not
others. But reading, and hence interpretation, is not just an act of engagement,
an attempt at understanding and comprehension, but also an exercise in
authority and power.
In Muslim history and tradition, that power has been the sole preserve of a
particular class of people. The prerogative of interpreting the Qur’an has been
limited to those with ‘legitimate’ authority: those who have been schooled in
various Qur’anic sciences, who have followed the traditional disciplines and
curriculum, and have reached the position of an ‘alim, or a recognisable reli-
gious scholar. These scholars also served as the custodians of a long, cherished
tradition that provided a continuous connection with the historical narrative
of Islam as a fixed, unchanging dogma, law and morality—an additional source
of their power and prestige. I believe this tradition turned the Qur’an, the fun-
damental source of moral guidance for all Muslims, into a closed book for the
vast majority of believers; and had serious consequences for the evolution of
Muslim thought and culture.
There are two basic points to be made here: one about the ulama, the so-
called religious scholars with ‘legitimate authority’; and one about the vast
majority of ordinary Muslims.
It is a standard boast of many Muslims that Islam has no priestly hierarchy.
The Qur’an does not sanction a particular class of people, such as Christian
31
priests, who are ordained to minister Divine worship, administer the sacra-
ment, give absolution, forgive sins, and otherwise act as intermediary between
God and humans. This is the theory; but in reality this is both an untenable
and a deceitful position—a deceit that Muslims have been perpetuating for
centuries. For the ulama are de facto priests of Islam and act as such; indeed,
they even dress as a priestly class. By reserving the right of interpreting the
Qur’an, they act as intermediaries between the Word of God and the ordinary
believer. Worse: in some cases, the interpretation of the ulama of a particular
school, for example the Hanafi School of Thought, is actually placed at par
with the Qur’an itself. So the ulama have the same authority as the Qur’an and
speak with the voice of God. We thus find ourselves in a situation where the
text of the Qur’an and its interpretation are collapsed into a single discourse;
criticism of the ulama and their interpretation then becomes criticism of
the text of the Qur’an itself, and any attempt at new interpretation automati-
cally becomes a violation of the Sacred Book. Total domination—of the
Qur’an, its interpretation and religious knowledge—is thus clearly and cleverly
maintained.
Authority in the traditional framework is often acquired through the strict
practice of working backwards. What this means is that the interpretations of
the scholars of previous generations are read systematically going right back to
original interpreters of the Qur’an during the classical period of Islam. This is
supposed to provide historic continuity as well as legitimacy for the current
crop of guardians of interpretation. But it also repeats all the mistakes of his-
tory, undermines criticism, and retains the ethos and morality of medieval
times. This is why so many interpretations of the Qur’an, including many
‘modern’ ones, appear so archaic and out of sync with contemporary issues and
concerns.
To maintain their domination of who could interpret the Qur’an and how
it can be read, the ulama used a number of tactics. They reduced the Qur’anic
concept of ‘ilm, which refers to all kinds of knowledge, to mean only religious
knowledge; and then went on to suggest that those with religious knowledge
are superior to those who did not have this knowledge. They reduced the
Islamic concept of ijma‘, which means consensus of all people, to mean only
the consensus of a few privileged religious scholars—and, through a long and
arduous process, closed the ‘gates of ijtihad’, or new interpretation. Indeed,
during the fifteenth century, the religious scholars even stopped the spread of
printing in the Muslim world. For centuries, printing was prohibited in Mus-
lim societies because religious scholars feared that copies of the Qur’an would
32
become commonplace, leading to the Muslim masses not just reading but
interpreting the Holy Text [21]. The consequences of these developments have
been nothing short of catastrophic for Muslim societies.
For ordinary Muslims too, the hegemony of the ulama has been devastating.
The believer is reduced to an empty vessel into which religious knowledge is
poured, to be accepted unquestioningly. We are simply told what the Qur’an
says or means. We can present questions to warranted scholars and follow the
answers given. To challenge the traditional opinions of this elite body is not
only presumptuous, but also an indication of a weakness of faith, creed and
belief and nefarious intentions, since without their special educational prepara-
tion no sensible thought or understanding is possible. Hence, most Muslims
actually fear engaging with the Qur’an directly, thinking they lack the basic
qualifications, and would therefore make serious errors of judgement and inter-
pretation. If they read the Qur’an at all, they read it with utmost caution and
a mountain of classical commentaries, or through the eyes of a contemporary
but classically trained scholar, with their own minds and critical faculties firmly
in check. Thus, concerned, thinking and dedicated Muslims are disenfran-
chised from engaging in earnest and reasoned debate with the Qur’an.
Traditionally, individuals face two specific barriers to direct engagement
with the Qur’an. The first is ‘specialised knowledge’ which, according to the
religious dons, is a prerequisite for opening and reading the sacred text. Much
of this knowledge relies heavily on memory. It requires one to know where,
when and why verses of the Qur’an were revealed, be familiar with classical
commentaries, have instant recall of over 2,000 traditions of the Prophet
Muhammad, and be able to quote generously from the canonical books of
Islamic law and jurisprudence. Now, it is probably a good idea to have this
background if you wish to undertake a painstakingly scholarly exegesis of the
Qur’an. But if the Qur’an is meant for everyone, ordinary mortals as well as
the experts, then why would one, or indeed everyone, need umpteen qualifica-
tions to engage with the Word of God?
This formidable specialist barrier was created during a period when books
were scarce, memory played an important part in learning, and general educa-
tion was not widespread. In contemporary times it is not so important for you
to have committed thousands of sayings of the Prophet Muhammad to mem-
ory, or to have learned the canonical legal text by rote. They are easily available
in print, digital form and online: if one needs to refer to them they can be
accessed easily. Indeed, there are even specialist software products, such as Al
Alim, that provide most of the background material one may need, leaving the
33
mind free to think about the text itself. There is, however, one aspect of the
traditional requirement that I do think is rather important: knowledge of
when and why particular verses were revealed, the context of the revelation.
This is where the struggle that I mentioned earlier comes in: one does need to
put in a little effort, to do some research, to discover the context. But it is not
a fearsome task; it is something that any educated person can do.
The second barrier is Arabic. The conventional requirement is that one must
have a command of the Arabic language as well as its grammar, phonetics,
semantics, syntax and history and evolution; in fact, be a complete master of
Arabic linguistics! The curriculum of traditional religious seminaries (madra-
sas) gives so much importance to Arabic language and grammar that young
children are force-fed (and not infrequently brutalised) with classical formulae
and rules, in a process that is based almost exclusively on rote learning. Not
surprisingly, many Muslims have an in-built phobia of Arabic and see it as a
major impediment to approaching the Qur’an.
Clearly, it would be a good idea to have a solid background in Arabic if you
wish to pursue scholarly endeavours. But here is a self-evident truth: knowing
Arabic does not necessarily mean that one could, or would, understand the
Qur’an better. To begin with, the Arabic of the Qur’an is not the Arabic spo-
ken in some eighty different dialects in the Arab world today. These dialects
vary considerably; just because they are written with the same script does not
mean that they say the same thing. Mandarin and Cantonese are both Chinese,
but they are two different languages; Korean and Japanese are written in the
same script and sound similar, but they are not the same language. Just because
someone speaks Arabic does not necessarily mean they understand the Qur’an.
Indeed, classical Arabic may not be of much help. His total command of clas-
sical Arabic, and mastery of traditional disciplines and Qur’anic sciences, did
not prevent the late Grand Mufti of Saudi Arabia, Sheikh Bin Baz, from claim-
ing that, according to the Qur’an, man could not land on the moon, football
is evil and women (who are hardly human) should not be allowed to drive!
Perhaps it is unfair to single out Bin Baz: the Muslim world is full of scholars,
many graduates of such prestigious institutions as Al-Azhar in Cairo, Mecca
and Medina universities, and Darul Uloom Deoband, India, who appear to
know all there is to know about Arabic and yet have a truncated, not to say
violent, understanding of the message of the Qur’an.
What about the vast majority of Muslims who do not speak Arabic? Arabic-
speaking people constitute less than a quarter of the global Muslim population.
If having Arabic is a prerequisite for reading the Qur’an, then God has been
34
rather unjust to all those who do not have Arabic. Yet the Qur’an itself tells us
that it is irrelevant whether one speaks Arabic or not: ‘if we had made it a for-
eign Qur’an, they would have said: “if only its verses were clear! What? Foreign
speech to an Arab?” Say it is guidance and healing for those who have faith…’
(41:44). In other words, it is a text open to all, whether or not they speak Ara-
bic. But speaking Arabic is not an advantage either: ‘We know very well what
they say: “It is a man who teaches him” but the language of the person they
allude to is foreign, while the revelation is in clear Arabic’ (16:103). Here, the
Qur’an is saying to the Arabs that they are illiterate in the language of the
Qur’an, even though they may speak Arabic.
The ‘clear Arabic’ of the Qur’an, I believe, is open to all: specialists and
scholars as well as non-experts and ordinary folk. It does require one to strug-
gle with the specific words, a vocabulary of less than 600 different and distinct
words, terms and concepts, of the Qur’an. But discovering their meaning, see-
ing what they signified when they were first revealed, how they have been
interpreted in history, and what their significance could be today, is part of the
intellectual fun of engaging with the Qur’an.
So, I would argue that on the whole one does not need any prerequisite
qualification to engage with the text of the Qur’an. Neither do we need the
permission of a cleric, nor to have the authority of specialised knowledge.
Indeed, I believe the barriers created by traditional scholars to be the most seri-
ous problem facing Muslims today and for the future. It disenfranchises con-
cerned, thinking, dedicated Muslims from engaging in earnest and reasoned
debate with the Qur’an, while it leaves a stultified, closed system of education
unchecked, producing obscurantist scholars who have little knowledge of the
complexity and problems of the modern world. A class of scholars, who value
received outmoded opinion, exist in hermetically sealed religious and cultural
capsules, and can spout little more than slogans that are dangerously obsolete.
To follow the dictates of such an elite is to deny any possibility of change and
evolution. The great challenge of contemporary times is for Muslims to be
liberated from their clutches.
However, it would be beneficial to approach the Qur’an with an open mind;
or, to paraphrase Abdul Hasan Ali Nadwi (1913–99), with a desire to learn, a
dissatisfaction and discontent with the current conditions, a longing for posi-
tive change and a passion to improve the situation of humanity [22]. A com-
plex text such as the Qur’an requires patience, and reveals and unfolds itself
with multiple readings, diligent scrutiny and continuous and constant con-
templation. The reader is invited by the Sacred Text itself to reflect and medi-
35
tate on its contents: ‘Will they not contemplate the Qur’an?’ (47:24); and
‘Will they not think about this Qur’an?’ (4:82). Answers can only be found if
questions are asked; and different readers, no doubt, will ask different ques-
tions of the text.
But the questions themselves change over time. Old questions lose their
significance, new questions acquire urgency. I suspect that the question
whether the Qur’an was created or has always existed, which occupied the
minds of classical scholars for centuries, is not of much significance in a world
of climate change, deep social inequalities, gender bias, chauvinism, terrorism
in the name of religion and radical evil. On the whole, traditional exegesis has
seldom asked questions outside the proscribed boundary of orthodoxy: what
we could call the ‘unthought’ of Islam. Part of the problem, as Farid Esack
points out, was the inability of the traditional scholarship to deal with any
forms of Otherness, either within the Muslim community or outside it. But
dealing with Otherness, and being at ease with profound pluralism, is a major
issue for contemporary times and raises all variety of questions. Does the
Qur’an really consign all non-believers to hell? Are Muslims commanded to
fight non-Muslims perpetually? Does the Qur’an really divide the inhabitants
of globe into believers and non-believers? All these are questions a non-Muslim
reader may legitimately ask.
And Muslims from various backgrounds, who bring their own social and
cultural experience to the text, would ask questions that are more pertinent to
their personal lives. Is the Qur’an a patriarchal text (as some Muslim feminists,
including Asma Barlas, Fatmia Mernissi and Amina Wadud, have asked)? Is
the Qur’an explicitly homophobic (as some gay and lesbian Muslims, including
Scott Siraj ak-Haqq Kugle and Irshad Manji, have inquired)? What does the
Qur’an have to say about the environment? What would constitute the
‘authentic’ meaning of the Qur’an in contemporary times? Given that we bring
our own perspectives to our readings, and every reader will approach the
Qur’an from his or her own context, is it possible to speak of an interpretation
that is applicable to the whole world? And is it possible to be truly imaginative
in our reading and interpretation of the Qur’an?
Such an open and questioning approach to the Qur’an would no doubt be
looked on with suspicion, if not hostility, by some. It would certainly not
please traditional scholars, who would regard opening up the text to all, what-
ever their background and state of knowledge, as a direct challenge to their
dominant position—a position that has been defended, throughout history,
with the rhetoric of fire and brimstone. Indeed, it would confirm their worst
36
suspicions: not just that different interpretations of the Qur’an are possible,
but these could lead to different forms of Islam and different ways of being
Muslim; a splendid thing, in my opinion.
It is necessary to ask different questions, and hence to confront the domi-
nant mode of thought and interpretation, for another very specific reason: not
to do so would be tantamount to being complacent in perpetuating oppressive
readings of the Qur’an. Meaning and interpretation are always tentative, time-
bound and frequently biased. Their significance can only be realised through
contention and debate involving all elements of society. Rather than being told
what the Qur’an says, what is the interpretation of its verses, and what it
requires one to do and not do, concerned Muslims everywhere need to get
back to their religious duty of reading and actively interpreting the Qur’an for
themselves. To some extent, as this book itself demonstrates, Muslim thinkers,
writers, academics and intellectuals are beginning to reclaim their interpreta-
tive rights. This is happening, as Barlas notes, in proportion ‘to attempts by
some Muslim states and clerics to keep Muslims from reading’ [23]. Opening
up readings and interpretations of the Qur’an would no doubt also open up
democratic, alternative potentials within Muslim countries themselves. This
struggle for inclusive, pluralistic possibilities begins with the translations of
the Qur’an.
37
5
LIMITS OF TRANSLATIONS
For the vast majority of people, Muslims and non-Muslims alike, the Qur’an
is only accessible in translation. But translations have been a source of contro-
versy throughout Muslim history. The need and desire for translations arose
as soon as Islam spread beyond the Arabian peninsula, where the growing
number of new converts to the faith did not speak Arabic. Two related ques-
tions came to the fore. Was it permissible to translate the Arabic Qur’an into
another language? And was it lawful to recite the translation during prayer?
The first person to address the issue was Imam Abu Hanifa (699–765), the
great jurist and founder of the Hanafi School of Thought. Of Persian origins,
Abu Hanifa declared that it was permissible both to translate the Qur’an into
Persian and read the Persian version during prayer. He argued that the Qur’an
is simply the meaning of the revealed Arabic text, and this meaning does not
change if rendered into a different language. Indeed, from the death of the
Prophet Muhammad in 632 to the days of Abu Hanifa, translations of parts
of the Qur’an into the languages of new converts to Islam were permitted and
widely used.
But the practice did not last. The founders of the three other dominant
Schools of Thought—Imam Malik (711–795), Imam As-Shafi (767–820) and
Imam Hanbal (780–855)—vehemently disagreed with Abu Hanifa. Imam
Malik thought that it was reprehensible for a non-Arab even to make an oath
by God in a language other than Arabic. Hanbali jurists argued that the inimi-
tability of the Qur’an was based not just in the meaning of the words but also
the unique structure, the sounds and the rhyme and rhythm of the text. As it
was humanly impossible to capture this, translations could not be permitted.
39
As-Shafi, a pure Arab, argued that the Qur’an was revealed in the language of
Muhammad’s own people to the exclusion of the tongues of non-Arabs; there-
fore, people who did not have Arabic were duty-bound to learn the glorious
language of the Qur’an.
The majority consensus became the dominant position. But the controversy
continued, as it was challenged, from time to time, by scholars and jurists
within the dominant tradition. A seventeenth-century jurist, for example, used
the same argument as As-Shafi to reach the opposite conclusion: ‘if you argue
that the Messenger of God was not sent to Arabs alone but to all mankind who
speak different languages’, he writes, ‘so that if the Arabs could not make any
plea (of ignorance) others could, then I would say this: Either (the revelation)
could be sent in all the tongues or in one of them. But there was no need for
it to be revealed in all languages, since translations make up for that…(and
could be used) to transmit it and spread it… to explain… (it) to non-Arab
nations…’ [24]
More recently, a famous fatwa against translations was issued by the Syrian
jurist Rashid Rida, in 1908 [25]. Concerned with an imminent Turkish trans-
lation of the Qur’an, Rida’s fatwa identified three major problems with translat-
ing the Qur’an: a translation reflects the understanding of one person;
metaphoric verses could be rendered literally and thus lead to confusion; and
a translation cannot reproduce the diction, rhyme and structure of the Qur’an
and would therefore deprive the reader of these benefits. This is why, Rida
argues, it is essential for all Muslims to learn Arabic, the only gateway to under-
standing the true message and meaning of the Qur’an, the life of Prophet
Muhammad and the history of Islam.
We cannot really dispute the fact that a translation, as Mohammad Marma-
duke Pickthall (1875–1936) notes, ‘is not the Glorious Qur’an, that inimitable
symphony, the very sound of which moves men to tears and ecstasy’ [26]. As
such, during daily prayers, where blessings of God are being sought, nothing
but the original text will do. In prayer, as some Muslim scholars have rightly
argued, the true Majesty of God can be invoked only with His own words.
Equally, we have to acknowledge that there are serious problems with translat-
ing the Qur’an associated with its style, non-linear order, specific lattice struc-
ture, and perhaps the most difficult, if not impossible, problem of conveying
its intricate, rich and varied rhythms which, to use the words of A. J. Arberry
(1905–69), ‘constitute the Qur’an’s undeniable claim to rank amongst the
greatest literary masterpieces of mankind’ [27]. However, does that mean that
no attempts should be made to translate it? Or that translations per se are
40
unnecessary and irrelevant, as Rashid Rida and so many other theologians and
jurists, have suggested? Even when it is difficult, or indeed impossible, to ren-
der all that makes the Qur’an unique in another language, would not a good
translation communicate something of the meaning and essence of the Qur’an,
thereby making it easy for non-Arabs to understand its message? Why such
vehemence against translations?
There are four basic reasons why the traditional scholars were strongly anti-
translation. The first is related to the perception of the alleged superiority of
the Arabic language. Yet, as A. L. Tibawi (1910–81) notes, the classical schol-
ars had no acquaintance with other languages, apart from Persian, to pass such
a judgement. ‘They all seem so charmed at the undoubted versatility of Arabic,
that they took the matter for granted and gave little or no evidence in support
of their assertion’ [28]. It is analogous, perhaps, to the belief that the famously
monoglot English maintain about ‘the language of Shakespeare’, which they
sought to spread around the globe in the colonial era. There is in fact no evi-
dence to suggest that Arabic—or indeed English—is in any way superior to
any other language, even though the Qur’an is revealed in Arabic. All languages
have their unique features and qualities and their strengths and weaknesses.
Moreover, it would be an odd God who, having established diversity and citing
different languages and people as one of His signs in the Qur’an, then pro-
ceeded to defy it by requiring that He can only be understood in a single
language.
The second reason is well articulated by Mahmoud Ayoub: ‘the ideal cher-
ished by those who oppose the translation of the Qur’an is that of unity among
all Muslim nations under the banner of one faith and one language. The natu-
ral way to bring others to Islam, they believe, is to urge those who wish to know
Islam to learn the Arabic language’ [29]. Whatever the ideal, reality says oth-
erwise. Having a common language has never united the Arabs in history or
in contemporary times. Indeed, the distinguishing feature of the Arab world
is its perpetual and stark disunity. In contrast, despite a range of different lan-
guages and ethnicities, Europe has been able to come together as an economic
and political community: the European Union. An Islam that can only be
understood through a single language is not only diminished but has a limited
future: monochromatic understanding and outlooks are as doomed as mon-
ocultures in nature.
The third reason is that a translation, however good or flawed, presents an
interpretation of the Qur’an, as suggested by the title of Arthur J. Arberry’s
famous translation: The Koran Interpreted. It conveys the understanding of the
41
translator(s), an attempt to provide one possible meaning of a complex, mul-

tilayered text. Or, as Rashid Rida says, it is actually a tafsir, a commentary and
an exegesis. So, a translator is unwittingly stepping in the footsteps of those—
the traditional scholars—who see themselves as the only ones with requisite
knowledge and legitimate authority to write tafsir and interpret the Qur’an.
For the traditional scholars, the Qur’an is not just a Sacred Text; it is also a
secret book, and they are the sole key to unlocking its secret. No wonder they
are so vehemently against translations.
Finally, there is the suggestion that translations could, deliberately and con-
sciously, subvert the meaning of the Qur’an. A translation can be used to pres-
ent a distorted view of Islam and project and represent Muslims in the colours
of darkness [30]. Indeed, for centuries Muslims have harboured the suspicion
that translations have been used by Christian missionaries to destroy Islam.
This perception does have some basis in reality [31].
Some of the earliest English translations were undertaken with precisely this
aim. One of the first translations to appear in English was The Alcoran of
Mahomet by Alexander Ross, published in 1649. Based on a French transla-
tion, the subtitle made its aim clear: ‘newly Englished, for the satisfaction of
all that desire to look into the Turkish vanities’. In a note to Christian readers,
Ross explains his purpose further: ‘I thought good to bring it to their colours,
that so viewing thine enemies in their full body thou must the better prepare
to encounter…his Alcoran’ [32]. A more scholarly translation was produced
by George Sale in 1734; entitled The Koran: Commonly called the Alkoran of
Mohammed, its main purpose was to serve as a weapon in ‘the conversion of
Mohmmedans’. Sale was generous enough to suggest that ‘For how criminal
soever Mohammed may have been in imposing a fake religion on mankind,
the praises due to his real virtues ought not to be denied him’ [33]. But this
munificence did not prevent Sale from committing a few offences himself,
including mistranslation, omitting part of some verses, and generally berating
the structure, logic and rationality of the Sacred Text, which provided, he
claimed, clear evidence that the Qur’an was the work of several authors.
Subsequent translators decided to do away with the problematic structure
of the Qur’an altogether and totally rearrange it in some sort of chronological
order. J. M. Rodwell, Rector of St. Ethelberga, London, was the first to come
up with a rough chronological order for his translation, The Koran, published
in 1861. But Rodwell continued the Western tradition of both subverting the
text and using it as an instrument for missionary activities. He thought
Muhammad was a crafty, self-deceiving person predisposed to morbid and
42
fantastic hallucinations. A more thorough rearrangement was attempted by

Richard Bell (1876–1952), a noted Scottish Orientalist, as is evident from the
title of his translation: The Qur’an translated with a critical rearrangement of
the Surahs, published in Edinburgh during 1937–9. Bell found ‘evidence of
revisions and alterations’ in the Qur’an [34] but his reorganisation does little
for the translation. He thought Muhammad was a good poet, indeed a special
one as his poetry covered the themes of religion and righteousness, but could
not understand why poetry required repetition. Repetition within the Qur’an,
he argued, was a mistake produced by inserting some verses where they did
not belong.
But playing havoc with the structure of the Qur’an was not enough. More
recent translations have been a bit more subtle, using a number of devices,
ranging from omission, distortion and mistranslation, to project the Qur’an
as a violent and sexist text. The best example is N. J. Dawood’s The Koran,
which first appeared in 1956 as a ‘Penguin classic’, and has since gone through
a dozen editions. Dawood’s chapter headings themselves point to a deliberate
approach. For some reason the opening chapter of the Qur’an universally ren-
dered by other translations simply as ‘The Opening’ is converted to the far
more obscure though equivalent ‘the Exordium’. The title for chapter 39 (Az-
Zumar) becomes ‘the Hordes’, suggesting barbarian mobs, while it is more
commonly translated as ‘The Crowd’ or ‘The Groups’. Chapter 96 is translated
as ‘Clots of Blood’; the word used here, ‘Alaq’, is in fact singular and literally
means that which clings, and refers to the embryo as it attaches to the wall of
the uterus. Most Muslim translators simply call the chapter ‘the Clot’; what is
intended to convey the idea of birth Dawood projects as a notion of death.
Al-Saff, chapter 61, he translates as ‘Battle Array’; it actually means ‘the Ranks’
or ‘Solid Lines’.
Often Dawood mistranslates a single word in a verse to give it totally the
opposite meaning. In 2:217, for example, we read: ‘idolatry is worse than car-
nage’. The word translated as ‘idolatry’ is ‘fitna’, which actually means sedition
or oppression. Dawood’s translation conveys the notion that the Qur’an will
put up with carnage but not idolatry. In fact, the Qur’an is making sedition
and oppression a crime greater than murder. The verse should read: ‘oppression
is more awesome than killing’. Similarly, a word here and a word there are ren-
dered in a specific way to suggest that the Qur’an is a sexist text. Thus, while
the Qur’an asks humanity to serve God, Dawood changes that to Men, as in
2:21 which is translated as ‘Men, serve your Lord’; it should be ‘O People!
Worship your Lord’. Similarly, ‘Children of Adam’ becomes ‘Children of Allah’.
43
Spouses become virgins. Moreover, the translation uses rather obscurantist

images throughout to give the impression that the Qur’an is full of demons
and witches. For example, in 31:1, Dawood has God swearing ‘by those who
cast out demons’, while most translators have rendered the same verse as
‘Behold the revelations of the Wise Book’ or ‘wise Scripture’. In 113:4, Dawood
has ‘conjuring witches’ while the verse actually refers to the evil of witchcraft.
Where Dawood suggests God ‘communed with Moses for forty nights’, a rather
odd thought for a monotheistic faith, most translators point out that God
‘appointed for Moses forty nights’. While Dawood insists that the followers of
Moses are ‘made to drink the calf into their very hearts’ (2:93), more sensible
translators render the verse as ‘they were made to imbibe the love of the calf in
their hearts’. And so on. Not surprisingly, Dawood’s translation has been a great
source of discomfort for Muslims, who see it as a deliberate attempt to malign
Islam. Dawood’s translation is the one that most non-Muslims cite when they
accuse the Qur’an or Islam or Muslims, often with great conviction, of having
no option but to be fanatical, violent and depraved.
These translations had tremendous impact on the outlook of European
thinkers and society. Constantin Volney (1757–1820), French philosopher
and historian, found the Qur’an to be ‘a tissue of vague, contradictory declama-
tions, of ridiculous, dangerous precepts’ [35]. The explorer Charles Doughty
(1843–1926), whose Travels in Arabia Deserta was one of the most popular
books of the late Victorian world, had limited Arabic and relied heavily on
translations. The totally incomprehensible and trite Qur’an (which he always
spelled as ‘koran’ with a lower case K), he wrote, had given the Arabs ‘a barba-
rous fox-like understanding’ of the world [36]. In On Heroes and Hero-worship,
Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881) denounces the lies that missionaries, led by
‘well-meaning zeal’, have heaped on Muhammad. The Prophet is one of his
grand heroes of humanity, a ‘Great Man of him I will venture to assert that it
is incredible he should have been other than true’ [37]. Yet, after reading the
translation by Sale (‘our translation of it, by Sale, is known to be a very fair one’),
he found the Qur’an to be ‘a wearisome confused jumble, crude, incondite;
endless iterations, long-windedness, entanglement, most crude, incondite;
insupportable stupidity, in short!’ ‘Nothing’, he declared, ‘but a sense of duty
could carry any European through the Koran’ [38]. Across the channel, Vol-
taire (1694–1778) initially reached similar conclusions by reading Sale’s trans-
lation. But further reading, and copious annotation, led him not only to revise
his views but also, as Zaid Elmarsafy shows in The Enlightenment Qur’an, to
use the Qur’an to shape some of the key features of the Enlightenment [39].
44
Of course, not all ‘Orientalist’ translations served a polemical, missionary

or political purpose. Arberry’s translation, which was first published in 1955,
received high praise from Muslim scholars and critics for its approach and
quality. For me, it is undoubtedly the most poetic: Arberry devises rhythmic
patterns and sequence-groupings to echo the Arabic, and arranges his para-
graphs ‘as they form the original units of revelation’. Making an engaging trans-
lation does require some empathy with the text, and Arberry clearly had
affection for the Qur’an, which in turn had a profound impact on him.
Towards the end of his introduction, he gives a hint of what he was going
through: ‘the task was undertaken, not lightly, and carried to its conclusion at
a time of great personal distress, through which it comforted and sustained
the writer in a manner for which he will always be grateful. He therefore
acknowledges his gratitude to whatever power or Power inspired the man and
the Prophet who first recited these scriptures. I pray that this interpretation,
poor echo though it is of the glorious original, may instruct, please and in some
degree inspire those who read it’ [40].
Despite the objection of religious scholars, and Rashid Rida’s strong fatwa,
the early twentieth century saw the emergence of a number of English transla-
tions by Muslim scholars. This was a refreshing shift, from translations that
were, on the whole, hostile to the subject of their study, to an approach that
took Muslim appreciation of their Sacred Text into account. The move was
apparent in the titles that Muslim translators chose for their works: rather than
use the old anglicised form ‘Koran’, Muslims adopted the new ‘Qur’an’, which
is now accepted as the correct Arabic transliteration and pronunciation of
the word.
The path was led by Mohammed Marmaduke Pickthall (1875–1936), a
British novelist and journalist educated at Eton. A passionate man, he sup-
ported the Ottoman Empire and was an outspoken critic of Britain’s involve-
ment in Turkey. Pickthall, who embraced Islam in 1917 and went to India to
work for the Nizam of Hyderabad, believed, ‘like old-fashioned Sheykhs’, that
the Qur’an cannot be translated [41]. But he was persuaded by the Nizam,
who also supported the venture, to accept the task. The Meaning of the Glorious
Koran, subtitled ‘an explanatory translation’, came out in 1930. It is an accurate
and faithful rendering in the language of the King James Bible.
Pickthall’s translation was followed, four years later, by Abdullah Yusuf Ali’s
The Holy Qur’an: Text, Translation and Commentary. Born in Bombay, Yusuf
Ali (1872–1953) belonged to a wealthy family of merchants. He studied Eng-
lish literature at the University of Leeds and travelled widely in Europe and
45
North America, promoting the Indian contribution to World War 1. On the

whole, Ali provides us with a literalist translation, although he does lean
towards mysticism in some of his interpretation and commentary. Given that
Ali aspired to be a Victorian gentleman, it is not surprising that his translation
has the flavour and spirit of the age. He died in London, alone and unrecogn-
ised [42].
Amongst the Muslims, both Pickthall and Yusuf Ali served as standard
translations for much of the twentieth century. Both have gone through
numerous editions, and have been published in different forms worldwide.
However, towards the end of the millennium, when fundamentalism was on
the ascendance, both translations became a battleground over the interpreta-
tion of the Qur’an and hence the meaning of Islam in contemporary times.
Even though both translations are fairly orthodox, they are not conservative
and dogmatic enough for certain Muslims.
So the revised editions of Pickthall expunge the old English pronouns ‘thou’,
‘thy’ and ‘thine’ and claim to be more readable and accessible. But in the pro-
cess of editing ‘ye olde’ English, Pickthall’s own opinions are radically changed
to make him appear more narrow-minded and anti-rationalist. His sceptical
approach to miracles has been replaced with conventional, conservative views.
New explanatory notes highlight the ‘correct’ Islamic viewpoints; and where
Pickthall admits that the meaning of certain allegorical verses are not clear to
him, the editor now tells us exactly what the ‘true’ meaning of these verses
are [43].
But it is Yusuf Ali, the more popular of the two, who has been subjected to
what can only be described as a truly nefarious onslaught of revisions. Ali was
a humble and cautious translator. ‘In translating the text’, he writes in the pref-
ace to the first edition, ‘I have aired no views of my own, but followed the
received commentator. Where they differ amongst themselves, I have had to
choose what appears to me the most reasonable opinion from all points of
view. Where I have departed from the literal translation in order to express the
spirit of the original in English, I have explained the literal meaning in the
notes’ [44]. But Ali’s literalism is not literal enough for some. In particular, his
notes on miracles and eschatology have been a cause for concern by blinkered
conservatives, as was his inclination towards mysticism.
So the revised editions of Ali [45]—brought out by Amana Publications,
an American conservative publisher, and the Saudi Arabian religious propa-
ganda organisation, ‘The Presidency of Islamic Researches Call and Guid-
ance’—set out to ‘clear any misconceptions regarding the articles of faith,
46
varying juristic opinions and thoughts not in conformity with the sound
Islamic point of view’ (p.viii). The ‘sound Islamic point of view’, or the Saudi
Wahabi interpretation of Islam, cannot cope with allegory or metaphors and
is inimically hostile to any view other than its own. Hence, Ali’s appendices
giving allegorical interpretation of the story of Joseph, a mystical interpretation
of the Verse of light, and a symbolic explanation of the idea of heaven are ruth-
lessly cut. Ali was a Sunni, but he showed great respect towards the grandsons
of the Prophet Muhammad, Imams Hussain and Hassan, both of whom are
revered by the Shia. The revised edition deletes Ali’s description of the two
Imams. His constant references in the commentary to a Caliph or Imam to
lead the Muslim world are a reflection of his time. I suspect that he was trau-
matised, like most Muslims at that time, by the recent collapse of the Ottoman
Empire and the Caliphate. All references to a caliph or pious leader have been
removed. His view that insurance is not a form of gambling if it is organised
on an ethical basis and is a necessity in the modern business environment has
been ditched, as is his note on usury. His symbolic explanation of Muslim
prayer, his references to the mystical meaning of love, indeed anything that
smells of allegory or metaphors has been ruthlessly expunged. And his views
on jihad, sex in heaven, and resurrection are totally changed.
It took Yusuf Ali four years to produce his translation and commentary. The
numerous committees at the ‘Presidency’ took ten years to do the revisions.
So even the minutest deviation from the Saudi orthodoxy is cleansed. For
example, commenting on the verse ‘No reward I ask of you for this except the
love of those near of kin’ (42:23), Ali argues that ‘the love of kindred may be
extended to mean the love of our common humanity, for all mankind are
brothers descended from Adam’. But this inclusive humanity is much too much
for the Saudi orthodoxy, and has thus been deleted. In explaining 45:14, ‘it is
for Him to recompense (for good or ill) each people, according to what they
have earned’, Ali states that ‘it is not right for private persons to take vengeance
even for the cause of right and justice…Nor is it permissible even to a group of
persons to arrogate to themselves the championship of the right…’. The editors
of the revised version have done precisely this: arrogated to themselves the
right to decide exactly what is and what is not right. So out goes the part of
Ali’s commentary that questions their authority.
The ‘Presidency’ thinks it is right not just to change Ali’s commentary,
remove his preface, delete his appendices, and modify his translation, but also
to remove his name from the translation itself. We learn that this is in fact
Yusuf Ali’s translation from the one line mention to ‘Ustad Yusuf Ali’ in the
47
preface to the revised edition. ‘Ustad ’, a title one gives to a low-ranking scholar,
adds insult to injury, suggesting that Ali, despite his monumental achievement,
did not have the qualification to be a fully-fledged Sheikh. Of course, Yusuf
Ali has no comeback. But we should not hesitate to state clearly that these revi-
sions are both dishonest and reprehensible. No one has the right to change
Yusuf Ali’s opinion; except the author himself.
While Muslims have constantly complained about distortions and falsifica-
tion in Western translations, some of their own translations are not short on
misrepresentations. A notable recent example is Interpretation of the Meaning
of the Noble Qur’an in the English Language by Muhammad Taqi al-Din al-
Hilali and Muhammad Muhsin Khan [46]. It comes complete with a certificate
of approval from the late Grand Mufti of Saudi Arabia, Sheikh Bin Baz (who,
let us remind ourselves, thought the earth was flat), and other prominent reli-
gious authorities in the Kingdom. Intended to replace Yusuf Ali, it has been
distributed largely free and extensively through mosques, seminaries, religious
organisations and Muslim bookshops throughout the Muslim world.
Subtitled ‘a summarized version of At-Tabari, Al-Qurtubi and Ibn Khathir
with comments from Sahih Al-Bukhari,’ the translation ostensibly seeks to
explain and interpret the Qur’an with the help of three classical commentaries
and the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad. But the use of more puritanical
and combative classical commentaries that saw the world largely in black and
white terms, together with clever and selective deployment of the traditions
of the Prophet, enables the authors to present the Qur’an as a rather aggressive,
authoritarian and misogynous text in conformity with the Wahabi worldview.
The rendering is awkward and stilted, dry and literalist in the extreme. Certain
key terms are left in the original form and simply transliterated. The copious
Hadith footnotes are quite incomprehensible to ordinary readers of English.
The aggressively puritanical tone is set right at the beginning with al-Fatiha,
the opening chapter of the Qur’an. Thus, the verse ‘Guide us to the straight
path’ is explained as the way of not just God and His Prophet but also ‘pious
preachers’, that is the scholars and religious authorities of the Kingdom. ‘The
way of those who have earned Your Anger’ means the Jews, and ‘those who
went astray’ are the Christians! While no context is provided for the verse ‘kill
them wherever you find them’ (2:191), an interesting twist is given to the sec-
ond part of the verse. The key word here is fitna, which means social disruption
or temptation to sin. Yusuf Ali translates this as ‘tumult and oppression are
worse than slaughter’; Pickthall as ‘persecution is worse than slaughter’. But
Al-Halali and Khan explain fitna as ‘polytheism, to disbelieve after one has
48
believed in Allah’, suggesting that polytheists and apostates, by their very

nature, have committed crimes that are on a higher plane than carnage; and
hence they are legitimate targets for killing. So the next but one verse, ‘fight
them until there is no persecution’ (2:193) becomes ‘fight them until there is
no more disbelief and worshipping of others along with Allah’. Similarly, zal-
imun (literally those who commit zulm, or injustice, i.e. the oppressors) in
29:14 become polytheists and disbelievers, suggesting that the very existence
of non-Muslims is a form of injustice and oppression! In 33:59, where the
Qur’an asks the Prophet to ‘tell your wives, your daughters, and women
believers to make their outer garments hang low over them so as to be recog-
nised and not insulted’, the Al-Halili and Khan translation has ‘cloaks (veils)
all over their bodies (i.e. screen themselves completely except the eyes or one
eye to see the way)’. Similar interpolations throughout the text turn the
Qur’an into a blueprint for replicating the xenophobic and misogynist Saudi
society in every detail. No wonder so many Wahabi-inspired fanatics use the
Qur’an to justify their nefarious activities. I would suggest that in many
respects this is the Muslim counterpart of Dawood’s translation; and in some
respects it is even worse.
But it is not just the Saudis who seek to impose their own sectarian imprint
on English translations of the Qur’an. Almost every Muslim sect and ideologi-
cal camp has produced its own translation during the last few decades. So now
we have Shia translations, Sufi translations, a translation that reflects the par-
tialities of Turkish Islam, a feminist translation, ‘The First American Version’,
translations by ‘translation committees’, and even a bizarre translation based
on the absurd thesis that words of the Qur’an have magical numerical values.
Most of these translations are upfront about their specific outlooks. For
example, the standard Shia translation, which has gone through several per-
mutations, revisions and editions, declares its sectarian bias in the title: The
Holy Qur’an With English Translation of the Arabic Text and Commentary
According to the Version of Holy Ahlul-Bait. The translation is by Mir Ahmed
Ali, an Indian scholar, but the commentary is provided by Ayatollah Mirza
Mahdi Pooya Yazdi, a noted Iranian scholar with strong mystical leanings. As
one would expect, it is strong on Shia doctrines and ritual observances. In par-
ticular, it tries to show that the Prophet appointed his cousin and son-in-law,
Ali, and eleven others, as his successors, with full authority as religious and
political leaders for the whole Muslim community—to be obeyed unquestion-
ingly. As such, we read in the Introduction, ‘Ali is the Foremost and Topmost
One next only to the Holy Prophet in the thorough knowledge of inner and
49
outer significance of every word, sentence, passage and part of chapter of the
Qur’an in its revealed and pre-revealed form to which the Qur’an itself bears
testimony…’ [47]. It also tries to justify other Shia practices, such as glorifica-
tion of martyrs and temporary marriage (mut‘a). But the translation also deni-
grates companions of the Prophet revered by the Sunnis, throws scorn at Sunni
beliefs and insists that Shi’ism is the correct, authentic and original Islam.
Both the standard Shia and Saudi translations use Hadith, the sayings of the
Prophet, to argue for their particular, sometimes quite absurd and irrational,
positions. In the appendix to Qur’an: A Reformist Translation we get a whole
list of how ‘authentic’ Hadith have been used not just to justify sectarian posi-
tions, but also to promote the interests of a particular class, tribe or family,
justify violence and misogyny, validate superstition, prohibit certain cultural
products (such as music) and to suppress dissent. But the reform that this
translation seeks is not so much social and cultural as rooted in numerology,
a dubious practice of little value [48]. The translators, Edip Yuksel, Layth Saleh
al-Shaiban and Martha Schulte-Nafey, are followers of Rashad Khalifa, an
Egyptian American biochemist, who claimed in 1980 to have discovered a
hidden mathematical code in the Qur’an: when you add the numerical equiva-
lent of the verses of the Qur’an, they all add up to, or are multiples of, number
19 [49]. So impressed was Khalifa with his discovery that he began to describe
himself as ‘Rashad Khalifa PhD, Messenger of Allah’. Khalifa was murdered in
1990, but his legacy has continued unabated. Thus the function of this transla-
tion is to prove, by hook or by crook, that the magical number 19 is embedded
in each and every verse of the Qur’an. There is a large worldwide Muslim move-
ment of benighted imbeciles who swallow this nonsense.
It is quite evident that translations can sometimes create more problems
than they seek to solve. Fortunately there are reliable translations that both
Muslims and non-Muslims can use gainfully. The Message of The Qur’an, ‘trans-
lated and explained’ by Muhammad Asad (1900–92), is a superb example of
a non-sectarian, rational, humane and straightforward rendering of the Qur’an.
Asad was a scholar adventurer who, having converted from Judaism, travelled
widely throughout the Muslim world, worked with various anti-colonial libera-
tion movements and even served as the Pakistani ambassador to the United
Nations. He was an accomplished scholar with an intimate knowledge of clas-
sical Arabic, Hadith (he also translated Sahih Bukhari [50]) and classical com-
mentaries. His translation, published in 1980 from Gibraltar, where Asad lived
during retirement, is not only eminently readable, faithful to the original text,
but also erudite. His footnotes reveal his extensive knowledge of Muslim
50
sources, Islamic law and culture as well as the Bible. He shows that both Hadith
and classical commentaries can be used objectively to delineate the pluralistic
and humane message of the Qur’an.
On the whole, Asad’s views were quite orthodox (after all, he was a com-
panion of King Abdel Aziz, the founder of Saudi Arabia, as we learn from his
autobiography The Road to Mecca [51]), but this does not stop him from being
critical. ‘The great thinkers of the past’, he writes in his foreword, approached
their commentaries ‘with their reason’, and were ‘fully aware of the element of
relativity inherent in all human reasoning’. To disagree with them is not to
show animosity but to imply that ‘differences of opinion are the basis of all
progress in human thinking and, therefore, a most potent factor in man’s acqui-
sition of knowledge’ [52]. So Asad sometimes respectfully disagrees with the
classical commentators. Moreover, he offers a more allegorical interpretation
of some of the miracles mentioned in the Qur’an, disagrees with the conven-
tional Muslim opinion on the story of Ibrahim’s attempted sacrifice of his son,
provides several interpretations of the term and concept of jinn, and rejects
the orthodox line on the doctrine of abrogation (that some of the earlier verses
of the Qur’an are superseded by later ones). All of which was enough for Saudi
Arabia to ban Muhammad Asad, not just The Message of The Qur’an but also
most of his books. But that is all the more reason for using and consulting
Asad’s translation. I must confess that I find Asad to be an enlightened and
progressive scholar and adore his translation.
Two other excellent translations have appeared recently. Both carry the same
title: The Qur’an: A New Translation. The first to appear, in Oxford World’s
Classics series, is by M. A. S. Abdel Haleem, a classically trained Egyptian
scholar who is Professor of Islamic Studies at the School of African and Ori-
ental Studies, University of London. The second, by Tarif Khalidi, a Palestinian
scholar who is Professor of Islamic and Arabic Studies at the American Uni-
versity, Beirut, is in Penguin Classics (I suspect it is supposed to replace the
old N. J. Dawood translation that Penguin peddled for decades). Both are
published as trade books and should be widely and easily available. Together
they provide a good illustration of just how different from each other transla-
tions of the Qur’an can be.
Abdel Haleem provides us with an accurate and highly readable translation.
The complex grammar and structure of the Qur’an are transformed into
smooth, contemporary English mercifully free from archaisms, anachronism
and incoherence. Abdel Haleem uses a simple, but ingenious, device to solve
a couple of crucial problems. The Qur’an often addresses different parties—for
51
example, the Prophet, or the Community of Believers, or the hostile Meccan

tribe of the Quraysh—and switches from one party to another in the same
verse. Abdel Haleem makes it clear who is speaking or being addressed in
parentheses. Parentheses are also used to provide context: for example, when
the Qur’an says ‘those who believed and emigrated’, Abdel Haleem adds ‘[to
Medina]’, to show that it is emigration to Medina that is being described. Con-
text is also emphasised in the brief summaries that appear at the beginning of
each chapter. Although footnotes are kept to a bare minimum, they are judi-
ciously used to explain geographical, historical and personal allusions. Abdel
Haleem’s emphasis on context, the connection of each verse to many, many
others, and how different parts of the Qur’an explain each other, make this
translation original and exceptionally useful. You do get an impression that
you are reading a commentary on the life of Muhammad and an inkling of the
social conditions in Mecca during the period of revelation: Abdel Haleem
points out the cultural context of some verses, such as those relating to female
witnesses. But he also conveys an appreciation that the teachings of the Qur’an
are relevant, as he says in the introduction, to a world struggling with ‘such
universal issues as globalisation, the environment, combating terrorism and
drugs, issues of medical ethics and feminism’ [53].
There are, as always with any translation, some limitations. Despite the origi-
nality of the translation, Abdel Haleem is a bit too conventional and conserva-
tive. He adheres strictly to orthodox doctrines in the explanatory footnotes,
which rely heavily on classical commentators, particularly the late-twelfth-
century commentator Fakhr al-Din al-Razi. And he does not inspire a sense
of poetic beauty.
Like Abdel Haleem, Khalidi is not interested in providing the context of
the verses of the Qur’an. We therefore do not always know who the Qur’an is
addressing at various junctures or who is speaking to whom in its internal dia-
logues. Neither is Khalidi all that concerned with providing some help to the
reader: there are no footnotes or any explanation. Instead, Khalidi takes a
rather unusual attitude to the Qur’an; it is ‘a bearer of diverse interpretation’,
he says; and its ambiguities are deliberately designed to stimulate thinking. Let
the reader be ‘patient of interpretation’ and read at will [54]. All that is needed
is to approach the text with sympathy.
What Khalidi really wants is for the reader to enjoy the experience of read-
ing the Qur’an. Of course, he wants to communicate the majesty of its lan-
guage, the beauty of its style and the ‘eternal present tense’ of its grammar. But
he aims higher: he also wants the reader to appreciate the unique structure of
52
the Qur’an, how the language changes with the subject matter, how it swirls
around and makes rhythmic connections. He wishes to show how each of the
seven tropes of the Qur’an (command, prohibition, glad tidings, warnings,
sermons, parables and narratives) register a change in the style of its language.
It is a lofty ambition, but Khalidi pulls it off with some success.
The shifts in style are presented in two ways. Linguistically, Khalidi moves
between literal translation, rendered in clear prose, to the use of heightened
language, to deeply poetic renderings. Physically the layout of the passage
changes, so each style looks different on the page. The narrative passages, or
sections dealing with social and legislative affairs, appear in a prose format. The
dramatic and metaphysical sections are arranged in poetic style. An example:
In likeness, they are like one who lit a fire. When the fire illuminated his surroundings,
God extinguished their light and left them in darkness, unseeing,
Deaf.
Dumb.
Blind.
They do not repent. (2:17–18)
Khalidi also separates the dialogues and questions and answers that are the
hallmark of some of the verses as separate paragraphs. So a great deal of the
translation reads as conversations—‘He said’, ‘They said’—that have occurred,
are occurring and may yet occur in the future:
He shall say: ‘How long did you remain on earth, in number of years?’
They will respond: ‘We remained for a day or a part thereof. Ask those who count.’
He will say: ‘You remained only a short while, if only you knew.’ (23:112–14)
It is difficult to deny that this translation has a certain beauty and manages
to capture a glimpse of the grandeur of the original. No doubt, Khalidi’s
poetic efforts will be compared with Arberry. I would suggest that Arberry
has a slight edge. However, both Arberry and Khalidi’s translations have a
problem with numbering the verses. The verse numbers appear only sporadi-
cally, giving no indication of the specific beginning and ending of verses in
between. Neither translation would help someone unfamiliar with the text if
they wanted to check a reference to a specific verse; so the translations are not
easy to navigate.
However, navigating translations is by no means easy, as I have tried to show.
Since a single translation can be very misleading, it is best, I have found, to use
more than one. However, to present my reading of the Qur’an, it is necessary
53
to share with the reader my best approximation of the Qur’an as I understand

its English translation. Therefore, in what follows I present my own synthesis
of a number of English translations as the basis for the discussion of al-Fatiha
and Al-Baqara. To produce this synthesis I used six translations: Arberry, Pick-
thall, Yusuf Ali, Asad, Haleem and Khalidi. I read each verse in each of these
six translations and opted for the most lucid language, shorn of archaic form,
that I could to convey the sense I had accumulated from them all. Each passage
of this synthesised version is followed by a discussion of meaning, which incor-
porates discussion of the significance of the Arabic terms used and the subjects
that are addressed in footnotes. By no stretch of the imagination is my rendi-
tion a new translation. It is, however, a sincere and serious effort to convey to
the reader as accurately as possible the sense I apprehend in reading the Qur’an,
the point from which I begin to engage with its meaning, to work out the con-
temporary relevance of the text. In synthesising this reading I have made per-
sonal choices. I have been hugely informed by having to wrestle with the
differences and distinctions in the linguistic choices of some very notable
scholars. Most of all, the process was an essential element of my personal quest.
It helped to uncover new depths of meaning and implication in a text I have
been familiar with since childhood. I cannot commend too highly to anyone
interested in engaging with the Qur’an the practice of reading multiple transla-
tions in conjunction with one another. I would ask all readers not to stop and
certainly not to be satisfied with my humble synthesis.
54
Part Two
BY WAY OF TRADITION
6
INTRODUCTION
When I was six, my mother began teaching me to read the Qur’an. I began, as
is usual, at the end with the 30th Sipara, the last of the sections into which the
Holy Book is divided for purposes of study and devotional reading. However,
the short suras that comprise this Sipara were not the first words of the Sacred
Text with which I became familiar. Like any Muslim, as I learned to understand
speech I frequently heard the words that open all but one of the chapters of
the Qur’an: Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim, In the name of God the Compas-
sionate, the Merciful. This phrase is woven into the pattern of our daily life. It
is a convention of common speech, used at the beginning of a whole variety of
ordinary activities. In the same way I became familiar with the words of al-
Fatiha, the first chapter of the Qur’an. The al-Fatiha is not only the basis of
the five daily prayers Muslims offer; it is also recited on a host of occasions:
individually at times of stress or trouble, or collectively to solemnise and give
thanks at an innumerable variety of family and communal gatherings. Indeed,
there are a plethora of phrases and sayings invoking God, such as Inshallah
(God Willing) or Alhamdullilah (All praise or thanks is for God), which are
conventional expressions frequently used in Muslim daily life. And daily life
in a Muslim country is punctuated with the sound of the adhan, the call to
prayer proclaimed from every mosque. It summons the faithful with repeated
statements of the declaration of faith: ‘There is no god but God and Muham-
mad is His Messenger.’ The refrains of the Qur’an are embedded in the cultural
norms, the traditions that define one’s identity. As one grows up, by way of
tradition in word and deed, one absorbs aspects of meaning derived from the
Sacred Text before ever one formally encounters the text itself.
57
The traditional method of learning the Qur’an is and always has been repeti-
tion of recitation, designed to commit the text to memory. Familiarity and
remembrance are not the same as reading; nor are custom and tradition, the
conventional understandings one inherits and grows up amongst, the same as
reasoning with the meaning and implications of the Sacred Text. Living with
tradition is being socialised and conforming to the ways of one’s elders, ways
that have been formed from other people’s interpretations of the Sacred Text.
No human being can plumb the mind of God completely, nor devise rules and
regulations based on scripture which cater to all the permutations, vicissitudes
and needs of all time. Such omniscience is the preserve of the Divine. To claim
that there is one definitive way to be Muslim and that that way has been settled
for all time long ago in human history is to reduce the Qur’an to the narrowest
of human reasoning. Holding to tradition promotes the stance of previous
generations over the duties and responsibilities that should be the task of every
generation. However well such reasoning served other times and places, it is
legitimate and necessary to question how well it addresses the circumstances
of the twenty-first century. Moreover, failure to consider its contemporary
meaning is to deny the insistent message of the Sacred Text.
The troubling question for me as an individual, as well as for Muslims gener-
ally, is how to transcend tradition and find the meaning and implication of the
Holy Book for our time and place. For many well educated Muslims of my
acquaintance, the very idea of taking responsibility for reading the Qur’an and
thinking afresh seems tantamount to renouncing the past, and somehow
undermining their cherished identity which has been shaped by tradition.
Moreover, how can one read afresh words that are so familiar? How can one
think afresh about interpretations that have become second nature, because
we have always been taught that is how things should be? Even worse, taking
individual responsibility for reading and thinking afresh sounds, to many Mus-
lims, remarkably like denying the claims of community and opening the flood
gates of chaos that lie beyond established traditional consensus. Whatever their
private qualms, standing four-square behind tradition and the authority of the
traditionally educated preservers of traditional interpretation—the imams, the
maulvis and the ulama, the learned—serves a desire for unity. It is supposed
to demonstrate bonds of fellow feeling, brotherhood and sisterhood among
and across the diversity of the world’s Muslims. The most obvious outcome of
such conformity is the common practice of invoking, and defending, an idea-
lised Islam. Sadly, this idealised Islam is seldom to be found in reality. It is the
frequently heard plaint: ‘Ah yes, that is what Muslims are doing, but that is not
58
INTRODUCTION
the real Islam.’ The defensive reflex on behalf of the ideal too often sounds like
apologetics in the face of justified and justifiable criticism of what Muslims
actually do in the name of their religion. Criticism and complaint come as
much from Muslims as non-Muslims, though they are usually aired in entirely
different domains and contexts; the essential point being that in so many
instances that which is complained of, that which Muslims are actually doing,
is precisely what they believe constitutes the requirements of following tradi-
tion, and therefore traditional interpretation.
My personal journey is an attempt to engage directly with the Qur’an. The
objective is to search beyond the impasse of an idealised but unrealised under-
standing and discover how the Sacred Text speaks to the pressing concerns of
my time and the predicaments of the world in which I live. The journey is a
process of becoming aware, and sharing with the reader, how I find freshness
in the words of the Qur’an. Equally, it necessitates awareness of tradition, the
classical tradition of Qur’anic exegesis and interpretation. In this process I find
one does not abandon tradition but comes to understand that it is neither as
uniform nor as narrow as is usually presented. Both in reading the Qur’an and
exploring the legacy of Muslim traditional scholarship, the key is to understand
the context and distinguish between the general and the time-bound specifics.
The distinction is between what relates to a particular person, place and time
and the principle and methodology, the way of thinking and asking questions
which is relevant far beyond a specific context. When the principles and some
of the methodologies are released from the embalming crust of tradition and
applied to contemporary circumstances, they generate different ways of achiev-
ing a purpose and meaning which are enduring.
To read the Qur’an afresh on this journey I have gone beyond merely read-
ing different translations. The Qur’an is an Arabic text and I speak no Arabic.
My languages of cognition, the languages in which I think, are Urdu and Eng-
lish. To approach the Qur’an in a way that makes sense to my reason, and
therefore allows me to reason with the meaning of its words, translations are
essential. Any translation, however, is but one person’s approximation of the
original. One translation is never enough. I have over the years read numerous
translations. On this journey I have consulted a number of translations simul-
taneously: Arberry, Pickthall, Yusuf Ali, Asad, Haleem and Khalidi. Reading
them against or in concert with each other inevitably raises questions. How
are the same words rendered differently by different translators? Exploring the
significance of these differences leads to reflections on the choices they made.
The result is to confront an array of implications, possible and potential mean-
59
ing. What had been conventional, traditional, familiar in this way becomes
directly pertinent to one’s own understanding, a matter not of faith and repeti-
tion but of deliberation and cautious reasoning. To discuss my interpretation
of the verses, it seemed reasonable to present the reader with the sense I derived
from reading these translations together. The text that appears before each sec-
tion is my own conclusion from the translations I consulted. Arriving at this
compound translation required serious rereading of the various translations,
as well as detailed consulting of footnotes and thoughts of various commentar-
ies, and also considering the derivations of particular words in the Arabic
text. The compound I have arrived at would have been impossible without
tradition, but is not in and of itself anywhere else in the tradition of Qur’anic
translation.
I have applied this approach to the first two chapters of the Qur’an, al-Fatiha
and Al-Baqara. The opening short sura, al-Fatiha, is known to Muslims as
Umm al Kitab: ‘Mother of the Book’. It is recited in each section of the five
daily prayers, because it is a summation of God’s message to mankind, a sum-
mary of the essence of the whole, the source from which all that follows flows.
Al-Baqara is the longest of the chapters in the Holy Book, and as I read it
closely it became evident that its wide range of subjects in fact serves as a precis
of the Qur’an as a whole. It deals with topics which cover the entire gamut,
from spiritual truths about the nature of God to mundane consideration of
the duties and obligations of living a good life as part of a community. From
paradise to drinking and gambling, from rules of marriage and inheritance to
reflections on the history of religion, the themes in Al-Baqara recur and are
taken up again throughout the Qur’an. To examine the two opening chapters
therefore is the most direct way to establish a foundation for understanding
the style and import of the Qur’an as a whole.
The classical tradition of interpreting the meaning of the Qur’an is to pro-
ceed verse by verse. Here I deviate from tradition. Commentaries that provide
verse-by-verse analysis atomise the Sacred Text. They encourage the tendency
to take individual verses out of the context of the Holy Book as an integrated
whole. The search for connection and interrelationship between verses, the
conditioning of one part by another, the search for a balanced understanding
on the preponderance of evidence or the weight to be given one statement in
the context of the whole, which is the essential character of an integrated text,
recede into the background. On this journey I discovered something else: in
struggling with several translations to produce what I hope is a clear and lucid
sense of the text as I understand it in English, the verses quite clearly fell into
60
INTRODUCTION
delineated passages dealing with discrete topics. These are the units in which
I present both my compounded translation and my discussion of the meaning
I take from each passage.
Thinking about the meaning of these passages, questioning the interrelation-
ship within and between their verses, led me to a deeper understanding of the
logic behind the structure of the text. It challenged me and eventually led to a
fresh encounter with the implications of the words of the Qur’an. This does
not mean that I did not consider individual verses, even individual words, in
detail; nor does it mean that I could ignore the assistance of the enormous
repertoire of scholarship contained in classical and modern commentaries. I
was engaged in a wrestle with words and meanings throughout, and sometimes
had recourse to and relied upon the fruits of traditional scholarship. The result,
however, was something I had not expected. I was frequently surprised by how
forcefully themes of considerable contemporary relevance emerged directly
from familiar pieces of text in ways I had not previously encountered or con-
sidered. What I have made of my engagement with the Qur’an is a personal
reading, but one whose excitement and energy I hope the reader will share.
61
7
AL-FATIHA
ATTRIBUTES OF GOD
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

1. Praise be to God, the Sustainer of the worlds;
2. Merciful to all, Compassionate to each;
3. Lord of the Day of Judgement.
4. You do we worship, and to You we call for aid.
To be a Muslim is to accept that the Qur’an is the direct word of God as

revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. We are reminded of this at the begin-
ning of all but one of the chapters of the Holy Book: each word read and
recited is ‘In the name of God’, for we are saying God’s own words. But who
or what is God? Or rather, of what nature is the God who addresses humanity
through the means of revelation to the man Muhammad? How are we to
understand and respond to the purpose and intention of revelation? In pro-
viding us with answers to these questions, al-Fatiha establishes the basic
meaning of religion.
Revelation is God’s self-declaration to humanity. And the God who speaks
to us in the Qur’an is awesome: the ‘Sustainer of the worlds’. The word used
here is Rabb, a complex term with multiple connotations. It contains the idea
of having a proper claim to possession and consequently authority over some-
thing, while the essence of the relationship of the Rabb to what it possesses is
nurturing, fostering and sustaining a thing from inception to its final comple-
tion. The ‘Sustainer of the worlds’ is therefore the source and possessor of all
creation, a constant active presence nurturing all that exists. As the origin and
sustainer of all creation, indeed all praise and thanks should be for God alone.
63
Clearly God who possesses such incredible creative power and authority is
beyond the comprehension of humanity: ‘no vision can grasp Him’, as the
Qur’an says elsewhere (6:103). And this realisation leads me to a number of
points. First, classical commentators were agreed that in this opening chapter
of the Qur’an the Bismillah, ‘In the Name of God…’, is actually part of al-Fatiha
and should be regarded as its first verse. The familiar phraseology of the Bis-
millah recurs in what then is the third verse. So I have taken the opportunity
to render this most familiar of phrases in a number of variants. To begin with
I retain the word Allah. Allah is the Islamic term for God; literally the meaning
of the Arabic is The God. The God who is addressing humanity is Infinite and
Unique, He is the God of all creation, not merely a God for Muslims. I say He/
Allah, but this is misleading, for the Divine whom ‘no vision can grasp’ is
beyond gender and all our categories of anthropomorphic comparison, not to
be likened to human form. Similarly, it is the limitations of our language that
cause God to be referred to as He. It could as easily and appropriately be trans-
lated as She. In the Qur’an, God speaks sometimes in the first person singular
(‘I’), sometimes in the first person plural (‘We’) and sometimes in the third
person singular (‘He’ or as it could be ‘She’). If we concede to the traditional
reflexes of normal speech and use ‘He’, it requires particular emphasis that it
is our limitations which are being made evident.
God is the Rabb, the source, sustainer, true owner, the ‘Lord of the worlds’.
Some scholars translate alamin, the word for ‘worlds’, as Universe. I prefer the
common translation ‘worlds’ because it emphasises the plurality of creation.
God’s creation comes in different forms: not just the conventional Muslim
division of humans, angels and jinn, but also different races, cultures, religions
and worldviews. Beyond the diversity of humanity there is the natural world,
again in all its diversity of form, environments and eco-systems; and then there
are worlds beyond our own terrestrial setting: the solar systems and galaxies
of space, and of all these too, God is the Creator and Sustainer. This emphasis
on plurality, especially in the sense that human diversity is an intentional and
purposeful part of God’s creation, is central to the message of the Qur’an
(49:13).
How can humans possibly comprehend a being of such awesome capacities?
Only God can reveal to us His nature. By tradition, scholars have assembled a
list of 99 facets of His nature, known as the attributes of God, which are men-
tioned throughout the Qur’an. These 99 names of God are a popular subject
for decorative calligraphy; their complex, interwoven designs are a common
illustration in books and may be found as decorative pieces in Muslim homes.
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AL-FATIHA: ATTRIBUTES OF GOD
It is usual to refer to these attributes God with capital letters: Infinite, Unique,
Ever Present, Omniscient, the First and the Last. Of the 99 attributes, two are
the most frequently mentioned and are repeated twice in al-Fatiha, the sum-
mation of the most essential things to learn and remember about religion. They
are: Rahman and Rahim. Here I have given these terms in translation as ‘Most
Gracious, Most Merciful’ and then as ‘Merciful to all, Compassionate to each.’
These translations, slightly different from the most common wording—the
Beneficent, the Merciful—emphasise two cardinal points. First, God is incom-
parable in His Graciousness, Mercy, Compassion, Forgiveness and Benefi-
cence: all of which senses are contained in the Rahman. And secondly, God
dispenses His Mercy to all, every individual whosoever they may be, whatever
their identity or faith or no faith. God is Compassionate to each according to
their individual desserts, for each person is individually known to God. I prefer
the translation ‘Merciful to all, Compassionate to each’ because it is a constant
reminder of the vastness and yet particularity of the relationship of God to all
creation. Also this translation echoes the sense of universality and plurality
contained in the term Rabb, ‘Sustainer of the worlds’.
Rahman and Rahim derive from the same root word, which is appropriate
since we are to remember that God is One, yet multifaceted beyond our
imagination. Muslim scholars have given great attention to the significance
of these two words. Rahman has the meaning of a womb, as well as kinship,
relationship, loving kindness, mercy and nourishing tenderness. What could
be a more feminine attribute than a womb? It is the most ubiquitous reminder
of the folly of thinking of God in simplistic gender terms. And the connota-
tions coming from that derivation are indicative of the relationship of God
to His creation. Essentially, the scholars see this term as defining what is
inherent in God, the attribute of overflowing love and mercy from which all
creation comes. Translating Rahman as ‘Merciful to all’ is the best way to
indicate that all creation shares equally in this mercy, without regard to any-
thing we do or ask, no matter who we are: believers or not, Muslims or fol-
lowers of other faiths, or of no faith. God makes no distinctions, and is ever
ready to forgive.
Rahim is seen as introducing an active connotation: it is the beneficence
that has to be earned through good deeds. When we respond to God’s guid-
ance on how to live, endeavour to build a better world by putting into practice
as much as we can understand and replicate of God’s goodness and guidance,
then we are rewarded and strengthened in our activities by God’s beneficence.
The good and bad may benefit equally from the fact that God is Rahman; but
65
the fact that He is also Rahim means that His future beneficence is a function
of His justice. God is ‘Compassionate to each’ according to our actions. Unjust
deeds, such as tyranny or undue exploitation of natural resources, have conse-
quences both in future time on earth and in the Hereafter.
Human existence is not merely in this world. God brings His creation to
completion not in the here and now but the Hereafter. He is the ‘Lord of the
Day of Judgement’. Different people behave differently, their cultures and tra-
ditions vary. Yet all will have to account for their conduct on the Day of Judge-
ment, when God will not be concealed, and it will become all too evident that
God is the Absolute Master of all things. The moral challenge, the purpose of
religion, then is common to all, the same in each case: to do good as much as
one is able, no matter what one’s culture or tradition. There will be a Day when
all different worlds and each member of those worlds will return to their
source, the Forgiving and Just Lord, to receive their individual share of reward
and punishment.
Religion begins by appreciating the awe and wonder of the Infinite. Estab-
lishing our relationship to God inspires gratitude, humility and admiration.
But how can we, finite created beings, express these sentiments? How can one
appropriately praise the Infinite? Answer: in the words of the Infinite Himself.
The whole of al-Fatiha is a prayer in which God teaches humanity how to
praise Him.
Human existence begins and ends with God. Understanding the nature of
God is the basis for getting our relationship with God right. Indeed, it is inher-
ent in the Muslim worldview that only by knowing and acknowledging God
in all aspects of our life can we truly know and fulfil ourselves as human beings.
Praising God is the consequence of recognising His essential attributes and
living accordingly. In seeking God’s aid, we have to rely on mercy and compas-
sion, so surely it is incumbent on each and every individual to reflect and
demonstrate these qualities in all their actions, in all their relations with other
people and the world in which we live. When we look around us at the state
of the world, clearly, in too many cases, repeating the words of prayer is no
substitute for listening to them and thinking about their meaning.
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8
AL-FATIHA
‘THE STRAIGHT PATH’
5. Guide us to the straight way,

6. The path of those on whom Your grace abounds,
7. Not those on whom Your anger falls, nor those who go astray.
Al-Fatiha begins with God’s self declaration of His most significant attributes.
It begins by focusing our attention on the wonder of God. Naturally if we
appreciate God our response is to praise and worship Him. And from whom
else should we seek aid and guidance? In particular, we pray to be guided
towards the ‘straight path’, a way that will lead to success in this world and sal-
vation in the Hereafter. Basically, we are asking God to illuminate both, the
truth itself and the way to the truth.
But truth, as we all know, is not always easy to delineate. Islam itself is some-
times described as the ‘Straight Path’. Like truth, Islam can be complex and
open to a number of diverse interpretations. The ‘straight path’ can thus be
defined in a number of different ways.
There is a sense in which any road we follow can be called a straight path,
simply because, no matter how many twists and turns it takes, however many
intersections it has, eventually it will get us to our destination. If we just keep
going, somehow, by whatever route, we will inevitably arrive.
It is quite easy for this common understanding to become, in religious terms,
the equivalent of just keeping on doing what people have always done. Follow
in the footsteps of tradition, do what custom authorises, that’s what the straight
path has always been, so why argue or question? But I am less and less con-
67
vinced that this can be the appropriate way to understand the meaning of the
straight path.
So what exactly is this path, and where are we hoping to arrive? What we
need is advice on how to arrive at our final destination, the Hereafter where all
our deeds will be examined and judged. Therefore, the guidance has to be
qualitative information, advice on how to travel rather than on where. We can
have no doubt where we are going: we will all die.
Qur’anic terminology is full of metaphors and allusions to travel and move-
ment. Shari‘a, the term used for Islamic law, derives from a word signifying
‘the way to a watering hole’. In the desert, water holes must be found among
shifting sands, changing and often hazardous weather conditions; and to sur-
vive, one has to keep on finding and returning to the water hole.
So, for me, the movement towards this direction is perpetual and eternal:
rather than a destination, the ‘straight path’ is a navigational tool by which to
assess how one ought to travel. It serves as a lighthouse that guides vessels at
sea, illuminates hazardous areas and highlights safe passages. What is ‘straight’
in the ‘straight path’ is the manner of travel, and not the road you see in front
of you.
Our journey through life on our terrestrial abode, planet Earth, is a concep-
tual journey. The ‘guidance’ we need consists of how we should travel, for that
is exactly what the Qur’an offers: the mindful travellers ‘walk on earth in
humbleness, pass their nights preparing themselves to make a rightful submis-
sion and take a rightful stand, spend their wealth on others, and are neither
extravagant not stingy’ [25:63–8]. They are ‘proactively steadfast, truthful in
word and action, ever submitting to the Commandments, keeping their wealth
open for the society, and seeking protection early against any forthcoming
challenge from the bottom of their hearts’ [3:15–17]. En route, they ‘turn
away from evil and indecency’ [12:24]; and establish prayer, fast during the
month of Ramadan, pay zakat (what is due to the poor), and go, at least once
in their life, on a pilgrimage to Mecca.
These moral references, a set of principles, help reorient our lives, and keep
to or get back on the right track. It is a way of avoiding the path of those who
have ‘gone astray’. Surely the implication here is that, despite guidance from
God, there is no infallible guarantee of doing right or keeping to the straight
path. In itself this is not enough. Paths have inclination; and the ‘straight path’
is, as sura 90 tells us, a ‘steep path’. It is a path of ‘toil and trial’, full of hazards
and challenges: our constant struggles with the moral, material, social, cultural
and political complexities of an ever and rapidly changing society. In which
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AL-FATIHA: THE STRAIGHT PATH
case the problem is not knowing there is a straight path, but working out how
to locate it among all the multiple choices presented to us. The path, as a con-
ceptual tool, is a way of making choices between good, better or best, bad,
worse or worst ways of living on our journey through all the complexities of
the time and circumstances in which we live.
Al-Fatiha ends with a reminder that we are neither the first nor the last
people to have wrestled with how to live a good life. The Qur’an situates itself
in history, among the successive generations of God’s creation, all of which
faced the same dilemmas. The Qur’an is not the first instance of revelation
from God. All peoples that existed before the coming of the Qur’an received
a ‘warner’: there were Prophets before Muhammad, each of whom brought the
same core message of how to live a good life in worship of God. History
records ample evidence of human frailty and failure. If we use the conceptual
map, we can distinguish among and between the works of human history, and
discern the bright spots from the looming mass of instances where peoples
have spectacularly gone astray.
Whether we look to the past or think about our future, what we need are
qualitative assessments that help us make more informed, better choices in the
place we now are and according to the conditions prevailing. The best possible
choice is to make regular returns to the watering hole, to use our intelligence
to find a way back to the straight path.
The Egyptian scholar Shaykh Muhammad al-Ghazali (not to be confused
with the great classical philosopher and theologian a-Ghazali, 1058–1111)
considered the ‘straight path’ to be in fact ‘a straight line’, the shortest distance
between two points. ‘Whoever leads a straight and righteous life’, he declares
in his commentary on the Qur’an, ‘will be on the right path to God, for that is
the one and only sure way and direct way that leads to Him’ [1]. This ‘straight
and righteous life’ depends basically on following a list of dos and don’ts. I think
this approach is simplistic and one-dimensional. It treats the world as flat. On
a three-dimensional, spherical planet, a straight line is in fact a curve!
Sayyid Abul Ala Mawdudi sees the ‘straight path’ as ‘a way which is abso-
lutely true’ [2], which begs the question: how would mere mortals get to this
absolute truth? For the classical commentator Al-Qurtabi, the ‘straight path’
is a path ‘which has no crookedness or deviation in it’ [3]. Those who belong
to the Shia branch of Islam have argued that ‘the straight path’ refers to Ali,
the cousin of Prophet Muhammad and the fourth Caliph of Islam [4]. Through
his personality and example, the true and straight path of Islam can be discov-
ered. This is why the Shia venerate him.
69
Sufis, or Muslim mystics, have their own interpretation of the straight path.
For Ibn Arabi (1165–1240), the Andalusian Sufi who is described by his fol-
lowers as the ‘Great Master’ (al-Shaykh al-Akbar), the straight path is in fact
the way towards the knowledge of spiritual and divine mysteries. In his mysti-
cal commentary on the Qur’an, ibn Arabi says that ‘guide us to the straight
path’ means ‘set us firmly upon right guidance and confirm us with rectitude
in the way of unity, which is the way of him upon whom You bestowed the
special favour of mercifulness, which is gnosis and love and the guidance of
the divine essence’ [5]. For the Sufis, the worlds we inhabit are nothing but
shadows. The straight path takes us away from these ‘perishing shadows’ and
leads directly to a union with God.
The straight path is thus not as straight and simple as it seems.
I would argue that the straight path is not self-evident to anyone in the
complexities of contemporary life. Moreover, it is not a fixed path: it is not a
priori given. It changes with changing circumstances; and reveals itself differ-
ently in different circumstances. It has to be constantly discovered and redis-
covered. And, most definitely, following the straight path does not mean
having a single answer which is invariably applicable.
Furthermore, there is and can be no guarantee that everyone will find the
‘straight path’—not even the most pious believers. The true determination of
how we have fared will be made in the Hereafter by the Lord of the Day of
Judgement. All frail and fallible human beings can do is the best they are able,
their best as a work of intelligence and diligence. Believers who pray for guid-
ance are duty-bound to employ all of their God-given faculties to work as
individuals and communities to reorient themselves in changing circumstances
towards the desired path. That path is navigated with the aid of the Qur’an—
which is where our efforts to gain guidance actually begin.
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9
AL-BAQARA
THE QUR’AN AND DOUBT
1. A.L.M.
2. This is the Book, wherein is no doubt, a guidance to the God conscious
3. Who believe in that which is beyond the reach of human perception, are steadfast in
prayer, and spend of what We have provided them;
4. And who believe in the Revelation sent to you, and sent before your time, and know
for certain there is an afterlife.
5. These are truly guided by their Lord, these are the ones who prosper.
6. As to those who reject Faith, it is the same to them whether you warn them or do not
warn them; they will not believe.
7. God has set a seal on their hearts and on their hearing, and on their eyes is a veil; and
there awaits them a mighty chastisement.
Sura Al-Baqara, the longest chapter of the Qur’an, begins with a ringing
self-declaration: ‘This is the Book’, and presents us with a summary of the pur-
pose of the revelation that is the Qur’an. The origin of the Qur’an, that it is
the direct word of God, is the foundation of faith and the most basic belief.
The counterpoint of faith and belief is the freedom to believe or not believe.
However, choice is not without responsibility: how and what we freely choose
to believe has consequences, both in this life and the life to come. And right
at the outset this first passage intimates two other vital issues: one is the dis-
tinction between doubt and the rejection of faith and belief; the second is the
consistency and continuity of divine revelation as guidance for all humanity.
The consequence of belief is accepting the guidance provided by revelation,
which must be translated into practical action.
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This is the Book, the Sacred Text, or Divine Writ—God’s words; of this
there should be no doubt. And its purpose is equally clear: it is ‘a guidance’ to
those who are ‘God conscious’. The word used, muttaqi, is often translated as
God fearing. However, I prefer the translation ‘God conscious’. This translation
takes us to the derivation and root sense of taqwa: God consciousness, a central
concept of Islam. What exactly does this mean? To the non-believer this is the
hardest thing to explain, while for believers it is the most obvious and basic
premise of faith. Taqwa is consciousness, an awareness of the certainty, reality
and presence of God that is experienced intellectually, spiritually, emotionally.
It is the realisation that, as the Qur’an says: God is nearer to us than our jugular
vein, He knows and is constantly aware of all our actions, thoughts and motiva-
tions. The purpose of guidance is to teach humanity how to live out, or live up
to, the implications of this consciousness in each and every moment of our
lives. Taqwa may be the basis of faith, the certainty on which belief is founded,
but the real challenge is to incorporate it into all our thoughts and actions.
Consciousness is the faculty by which we think and reason, and inherent in
the process is doubt.
Taqwa is the moment of insight, the lived experience of knowing something
beyond ourselves. Making sense of that consciousness, understanding the
nature of God and operating proper relationships based on this awareness, is
the message of the Qur’an. Awareness, God consciousness, shapes how we per-
ceive the world around us, the connections we understand and the practical
means for applying this understanding to the questions of our daily life.
The opening verses of Al-Baqara then give a concise statement of the five
consequences of taqwa that are the central themes running throughout the
entire Qur’an. The five themes are: that God is the self-sufficient fount of all
being; that the fact of God’s existence as told by prophet after prophet is acces-
sible to human intellect; that righteous living—and not merely believing—is
the necessary complement of this intellectual perception; that bodily death
will be followed by resurrection and judgement; that all who are truly con-
scious of their responsibility to God need have no fear.
What intrigues me is how, right at the outset, the straightforward declara-
tion that this is God’s Word recognises the human capacity to doubt. The
Qur’an takes doubt seriously, and throughout the Book it recurs and appears
in various guises. It is presented as a continuum which stretches from being an
essential aid to belief all the way to a blinkered determination not to believe
under any circumstances. Doubt is a function of our free will: we are free to
accept or reject belief in God. Repeatedly, the Qur’an engages with various
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AL-BAQARA: THE QUR’AN AND DOUBT
kinds of doubt, offering, as we shall find, arguments and strategies against

which or by which to test our doubts; and thereby a rational process to arrive
at conviction in the uniqueness of the Qur’an, the truth of its origin and the
guidance it contains.
The Qur’an does not require its readers to stop or refrain from doubting. It
repeatedly asks them to explore their doubts. It is far too simplistic to think
that doubt refers only to the existence of God or the origin of the Qur’an. As
we read we also have to explore, analyse and interrogate, as examples given later
in this sura show, the meaning and implications as well as the applications of
the guidance contained in God’s word. There is thus absolutely no reason to
feel intimidated. Doubt and certainty are not diametrically opposed condi-
tions. Unless we reason with and through our doubts, we can have no confi-
dence in our certainty. Certainty that is never questioned, that ignores or is
not tested by doubt, can become prejudice, complacency, the blind following
of tradition that undermines the meaning and spirit of the very guidance that
should be applied to our daily circumstances in the conditions of the times in
which we live.
It is taqwa, the reasoning consciousness, that leads to belief in ‘the unseen’,
that which is beyond our physical and material perceptions. ‘The unseen’ is the
conventional translation of al ghayb. Asad argues that this is erroneous, and I
agree with his argument and follow him in using ‘that which is beyond the
reach of human perception’. Whichever translation one uses, the Qur’an’s
repeated use of this term is a reminder that there will always be matters that
require an inductive jump, the proverbial ‘leap of faith’. Those who are aware
of God realise that human intellect has serious limitations. The Qur’an is lyri-
cal about the potential of the human intellect. It is essential to the way we come
to know God. Faith is not the antithesis of reason; true consciousness of God
must be the work of both. And only when our intellect and reason are fully
engaged will one appreciate how to live righteously. But intellect cannot pro-
vide answers to all our questions: such questions as ‘what is the meaning of
life?’, ‘what is the purpose of the universe?’, ‘what happens after death?’, and in
any case ‘why do we have to die?’ We can offer no definitive answers to matters
that have no experiential, experimental, objective, observable tests. Here we
rely on belief, as commitment and consequence of accepting the existence of
God, who can create, do, knows and understands all. We can receive only inti-
mations, through metaphor and simile, of what is Unseen and beyond human
perception, as in the Qur’anic vision of paradise we shall soon encounter.
But belief in what is beyond the reach of human perception in itself is not
good enough. Belief is not simply about consolation, self-fulfilment or per-
73
sonal salvation. To be meaningful it must be transformative: it must be lived,

put into action as social, economic and political change to achieve justice,
equity, dignity and improved well-being for all of humanity. This is a key mes-
sage of the Qur’an.
The Qur’an makes consistent association between belief and ‘establishing
prayer’, which is then linked to giving generously from what God has provided
for us as individuals and communities. This is how Muslims should practise
their consciousness of God. I see prayer as more than simply ritual worship. If
the human intellect is a way of appreciating, becoming conscious of and under-
standing God, then it is also another way of worshipping Him. The Qur’an
wants us to praise God by studying His signs: reflecting on nature, experiment-
ing with the material world, promoting thought and learning. So, I see what
God has provided in both concrete and abstract terms: wealth and property
as well as knowledge and intellectual resources. Believers give generously of
both varieties.
The Qur’an proclaims itself to be a distinctive revelation of God’s word.
However, those who accept the revelation given to Muhammad are not the
first to receive God’s message. History begins with God’s revelation to the first
prophet, Adam, and since then a succession of prophets have brought God’s
message to humankind. The Qur’an has a great deal to say about how people
of faith should relate to one another. But it seems to me that Muslims have
been and are as bad as anyone else in turning the commonality and continuity
declared by the Qur’an into an exclusive and excluding identity. Once one
accepts that all faiths and moral systems begin with or have common threads,
then the basis exists for collaboration in putting faith in action. There is a
shared rationale for finding the means to work together to make the world a
better place, a place of peace and peaceful cohabitation based on transforma-
tive change. In a globalised world of increasing interconnection, there is no
separately sustainable way of seeking, let alone establishing, justice, equity,
dignity and well-being for all. The message from God is not and should not be
a brand name, certainly not a ‘holier than thou’ arrogance that divides Muslim
from Muslim, and all Muslims from members of other faiths. The history of
continuity of God’s message is part of the unity of God’s creation.
All people, not merely the God conscious, will be resurrected and face God’s
judgement in the Hereafter. As the Qur’an tells us elsewhere, in the Hereafter
differences and distinctions, the ‘us’ and ‘them’ divisions, the human constructs
of interpretation we call our religions will be clarified. Theological disputes
and the arcane doctrines manufactured by human interpretation, especially
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AL-BAQARA: THE QUR’AN AND DOUBT
those that delve into things beyond human perception, will be exposed for
what they are: human imaginings. God’s judgement will concern not only what
we believed but what we did, how we lived. All who lived well, who conducted
their lives to the best of their ability consistent with consciousness of God and
adherence to His guidance, will be rewarded. Again, various translations tease
out the significance of God’s rewards, whatever shape and form it takes. I prefer
the phrase ‘the ones who prosper’ because we may prosper in a whole variety
of diverse ways in all aspects of human existence. To flourish is to prosper; to
be secure in respect and dignity, to be without want with access to equitable
resources is to prosper; to have liberty and freedom to follow one’s own con-
science is to prosper.
The interplay between the phrases ‘spend of what We have provided them’
and ‘the ones who prosper’ indicates another point. A major characteristic of
the Islamic worldview is that it is distributive. To spend is to distribute, to give
of that which one possesses. The Qur’an is full of exhortation and regulation
on the subject of distribution: what we have is for use and not mere accumula-
tion or self-enjoyment. Other people have a claim on our resources, economic,
intellectual and creative, social, cultural or emotional. People are not absolute,
exclusive owners, as we shall see in more detail later when we consider the con-
cept of khalifah, trusteeship. It is by distributing, putting to work, sharing the
bounties that come our way that we ‘prosper’. Ultimately the prosperity we
earn by being distributive with our talents and possessions is God’s pleasure
and favour, the supreme reward.
What of those who do not believe? I think it is important to appreciate that
this verse does not refer to those who simply doubt—for doubt may be resolved
one day, in favour of or against belief. Most of Al-Baqara was revealed in
Medina, soon after Prophet Muhammad’s migration from Mecca. So, in the
first instance, the unbelievers being addressed here are the enemies of the fledg-
ling Muslim community who were bent not just on denying the message of the
Qur’an but on persecution and eradication of those who had become Muslims.
They are referred to in the past tense: as those who had conscious intent and
deliberately resolved to deny the truth.
What about our own context? The world is full of doubters and atheists of
all varieties—and quite a few have chosen to be my friends! For the Qur’an,
and therefore for me, atheism itself is not a problem. We are free to choose: to
believe or not to believe. But God consciousness is a commitment to a way of
living that is or certainly should be dedicated to care for justice, equity, the
dignity and well-being of all. Such concern can be found as much among
75
people of no faith as among those who claim to believe. Indeed, some atheists
may be better examples of righteousness in action than many a believer I can
think of ! In the here and now, practical concern for the state of the world and
the condition of our fellow human beings provides a basis for collaboration.
In the final analysis, it is God alone who knows all and will make the only
judgement that matters. Or, to put it another way, who am I to judge? If non-
believers share my concerns for making the world a better place, then let’s get
to it! There are more than enough horrors in the world, and far too many of
them created because people stopped to argue and create animosities about
matters on which God has left us free to choose, or matters which are in truth
beyond human perception and therefore definitive human reason. For me it’s
not just a case of ‘live and let live’, although I certainly believe and uphold the
principle; I’m for doing what is right by all people, irrespective of what they
believe or don’t believe, and working with anyone and everyone who shares
my objectives for a better world.
But the movement away from God is also a journey. And in their journey,
atheists can acquire, my friends included, certain problematic characteristics.
They can, as the Qur’an tells us elsewhere, become arrogant (35:42–3, 39:59,
45:31) and insist that their path is the only true path and all else is irrational
nonsense. They can become self-satisfied and engage in self-exaltation (27:14,
38:2), praising their own position sky high while denigrating, ridiculing or
humiliating believers. They can, through political expediency or opportunism
(35:42–3), try to privilege their own position in society. These and other simi-
lar characteristics gradually lead them to lose the ability to understand the very
idea of religious truth. The ‘sealing’ of their hearts, as an act of God, is a prod-
uct of the baggage they have picked up on their particular journey.
Of course, believers are not immune from these diseases.
Finally, we come to the first verse of this chapter which consists of three
Arabic letters: A.L.M. (Alif Lam Meem) Al-Baqara is one of the 29 chapters
of the Qur’an that begin just with alphabetical letters. The intention here, I
think, is to arrest the attention of the reader. This is a poetic device. Apart from
that, I find no convincing argument that anyone, and certainly not I, really
know what the letters signify. There is no evidence of the Prophet himself
referring to these letters. Muslims have interpreted them in various ways: some
see them as abbreviations relating to God and his attributes, others argue that
they illustrate the inimitable nature of the Qur’an, some others interpret them
mystically, still others have read mathematical codes in them. I will simply echo
the words of the classical thinkers and say: I know not. Only God knows.
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10
AL-BAQARA
‘THE HYPOCRITES’
8. Of the people there are some who say: ‘We believe in God and the Last Day’; but they
are not true believers.
9. They would deceive God and those who believe, but they deceive none but them-
selves.
10. Sickness abides in their hearts and God increases their malady. A painful punish-
ment awaits them because they are false (to themselves).
11. When it is said to them: ‘Do not spread corruption in the land’, they say: ‘We are the
only ones that put things right.’
12. Truly, it is they who are spreading corruption but they perceive it not.
13. And when it is said to them: ‘Believe as the people believe’, they answer: ‘Should we
believe as the weak and the ignorant believe?’ Truly, it is they who are weak-minded,
but they know it not.
14. When they meet those who believe, they say: ‘We believe’; but when they are alone
with their evil ones, they say: ‘We are really with you: We (were) only jesting.’
15. God will requite them for their mockery, leaving them to wander blindly in their
excess.
16. These are they that have bought error at the price of guidance: and their commerce
has not profited them, and they are not right-guided.
17. The likeness of them is the likeness of one who kindles a fire; when it illuminated all
around them, God took away their light and left them in utter darkness. So they
could not see.
18. Deaf, dumb, and blind, they cannot turn back.
19. Or else like a rainstorm from the sky wherein is darkness, thunder and lightning:
they press their fingers in their ears to keep out the thunder-clap, for fear of death.
But God engulfs the rejecters of Faith!
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20. The lightning all but snatches away their sight; whenever it lights their way they
move forward; but when it grows dark they stand still. Had God willed, He would
have taken away their hearing and sight; for God has power over all things.
The concept of doubt and the freedom to accept or reject belief was intro-
duced in the preceding passage. Now Al-Baqara turns to another condition of
particular concern throughout the Qur’an: hypocrisy. It covers a range of
actions of human behaviour that have familiar consequences with an incredibly
contemporary ring. This passage defines the condition as a self-delusion whose
judgement and resolution are a matter for God.
These verses have an historic context. In the first instance, they refer to those
people of Medina during Prophet Muhammad’s time who, while publicly pro-
fessing adherence to Islam, privately reserved judgement about the Prophet
and his message. They are addressed directly in these and other verses of the
Qur’an. So, in the first instance God’s displeasure is directed against them.
However, I think these verses have great relevance today, not least in the way
some believers use these and similar verses to justify their behaviour.
Hypocrisy, we are told, is both an attempt to deceive the community and
to deceive God. It is, however, self-delusion, a ‘sickness’ that ‘abides in their
hearts’ because hypocrites ultimately ‘deceive none but themselves’ because
‘they are false to themselves’. The judgement of such people belongs to God.
The all too evident attraction of making religion a licence to denounce oth-
ers is neither its purpose nor the right way to proceed. From declaring people
as unbelievers, whether Muslim or non-Muslim, is a short step to finding oth-
ers insufficiently rigorous in their belief and observance. It is all too evident in
history and today that human beings spend far more time being judgemental
about one another than attending to the transformative task that is the purpose
of God’s guidance. When it comes to fair weather, friends and fellow travellers,
‘God will requite them for their mockery’. It is not a business for self-appointed
human judges to take upon themselves.
What intrigues me most are the examples of hypocrisy enumerated. They
are a very pertinent list of pitfalls. The hypocrites claim to be the only ones
‘that put things right’. We are all too familiar with those who insist they alone
know the right way, people who argue, quibble and nitpick about the fine dis-
tinctions of piety. For some, these fine details seem more important than ful-
filling the transformative purpose of religion, the spending and using of our
resources to make a better world. The matter mentioned here is ‘spreading cor-
ruption in the land’. This is the central concern in the Qur’an, the contradic-
tion of its purpose to guide humanity to the eradication of injustice, unfairness,
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AL-BAQARA: ‘THE HYPOCRITES’
all that leads to poverty, exclusion, suffering and division between people; all,
in short, that contributes to tyranny and oppression in the widest sense. Those
who claim they alone know ‘what is to be done’—as Lenin said, in a different
context—often have narrow, self-serving and self-protecting definitions which
leave the basic structural inequities in place and fall far short of genuine trans-
formative change.
From those who would like the environment protected but nevertheless are
NIMBYs—not in my backyard—when it comes to taking action, or wealthy
nations that talk a great line about free trade and aid to the neediest, yet con-
tinue to benefit from the operation of an unjust and inequitable global eco-
nomic system, there is pause for thought here. There are many ways to be holier
than thou about the substance of practical religion.
In the historic context, it is the nature of their belief which is highlighted.
They do not believe like the ‘others believe’—the bulk of the Muslim com-
munity. But the point is that they do have some sort of belief. They have, like
all other Muslims, dipped their little finger in the Infinite Ocean of God’s
Mercy. For most Muslims, engagement with God leads, or should lead, to
taqwa, which makes them cautious, watchful, humble and acutely aware of
their social responsibility to the rest of humanity—the term incorporates all
these meanings. However, ‘hypocrites’, who do not start out as hypocrites,
travel in a different direction. They think that their appreciation of the Divine
gives them a special dispensation: they not only understand God’s Truth but
actually embody it. It is in this sense they are trying to deceive God, though
they themselves ‘do not realise it’.
Then we come to people who, not to put too fine a point on it, relish elit-
ism: those who disparage what ‘the weak and ignorant believe’, who regard the
majority of believers as ‘fools’. All this leads to the will to dominate: they seek
nothing less than to impose their monolithic notions of truth on all others,
leading to violence, strife and corruption. They are convinced that their actions
are not only right but also that it is right to impose their own path on others,
whatever the cost. When the consequences of their actions are pointed out to
them, they simply declare: ‘We are only putting things right.’
The purpose of God’s guidance, again and again, is to strengthen the con-
nections between people within and across all their divisions and differences.
The ‘weak’ and ‘ignorant’ may be poor and uneducated, but they are as capable
of taqwa and as valuable in God’s sight as the highest and mightiest. What is
called simple faith, firm conviction and commitment to doing right are the
result of God consciousness, and this is open to all. If people are weak and
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ignorant in social terms, the problem is human injustice, the legacy of corrup-
tion which it is the purpose of religion to transform.
I think the bracketing of ‘weak’ and ‘ignorant’ is significant here. It is a
reminder that it is not only intellectuals who have access to insights on faith,
who are capable of understanding the meaning of God’s guidance or demon-
strating God consciousness. Intellectual elitism is to be guarded against as
much as economic, social and political or indeed religious elitism. If there are
differences in how people articulate their understanding, then the remedy
surely ought to be working harder to achieve mutual comprehension, to work
towards consensus and not to declare oneself above the lesser orders and their
quaint lack of sophistication. The goodness people do is what matters. And
doing good is not the exclusive preserve of any group, even intellectuals and
the socially advantaged.
The third condition of hypocrisy is what would usually be seen as the most
obvious example: saying one thing while meaning another. Hypocrites are
people who publicly declare their faith while, in private or in certain company,
they say: ‘We were only jesting.’ The phrase ‘evil ones’, literally in Arabic shaya-
tin, satans, is taken by classical commentators to mean people ‘who through
their insolent persistence in evildoing have become like satans’ [7]. So we can
here imagine a whole variety of human behaviour and company in which it
might be smart or self-serving to admit that one’s public show of faith was
‘only a jest’, only what had to be done for form’s sake, not to frighten the family
or neighbours or social convention, but not to be taken seriously. Asad argues
that the ‘evil ones’ can as easily be one’s own personal demons: in private, look-
ing down on the religious, or what one feels is done only for the sake of
convention.
Whether by being holier than thou or elitist or conforming merely for the
sake of convention, hypocrisy makes a mockery not of religion but of personal
integrity. God will requite this mockery by ‘leaving them to wander blindly in
their excess’. So in whatever way hypocrisy is expressed, it is an excess, a self-
indulgence as much as a self-delusion.
The Qur’an uses a number of metaphors to describe their situation. They
seek the light, but when all is illuminated they become blind. They seek signs
of an approaching storm, but when thunder strikes they put their fingers in
their ears. The theme and metaphors are repeated in sura 63, ‘The Hypocrites’.
There we learn that simply declaring one’s belief in God is meaningless. Believ-
ers should be judged by what they do here and now.
Now, I wouldn’t dream of pointing a finger at anyone. But modern-day
equivalents of the hypocrites are all around us. Just look at their actions.
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AL-BAQARA: ‘THE HYPOCRITES’
The distant ‘scenario’ of the Hereafter is a function of what one does in this
world. The emphasis is as much on the action of believers in this life as it is on
the judgement on the Last Day. The point the Qur’an is making is that ends
never justify bad means, and it is a great illusion for any person or group to
think they posses all truth. The goal of a blissful existence in the Hereafter
must be pursued with good actions, expressed in terms of what is truly human
and humane in the world in which we live.
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11
AL-BAQARA
PARADISE
21. O humankind! Worship your Lord, who created you and those who came before you,
so that you might remain conscious of Him,
22. Who has made the earth your couch, and the heavens your canopy; and sent down
rain from the heavens, thereby producing fruits for your sustenance; then set not up
any rivals to God when you know better.
23. And if you are in doubt as to what We have revealed from time to time to Our ser-
vant [Muhammad], then produce a single sura like it; and call your witnesses, apart
from God, if what you say is true.
24. And if you cannot—and most certainly you cannot do it—then fear the Fire whose
fuel is men and stones, which awaits all who deny the truth.
25. But give glad tidings to those who believe and do deeds of righteousness, that their
portion is Gardens, graced with flowing streams. Whenever they are offered its fruits
as sustenance they say: ‘Why, this is what we were fed with before,’ all alike in excel-
lence is their provision. And there shall they have spouses pure; and there shall they
abide forever.
26. God disdains not to use the similitude even of a gnat or else anything less than that.
Those who believe know that it is truth from their Lord; but those who reject Faith
say: ‘What could God mean by this parable?’ In this way God causes many to stray,
just as God guides many to the right path; but none does He cause to go astray, except
those who forsake (the path),
27. Those who break God’s covenant after God had established it, who sunder what God
has commanded to be joined, and spread corruption on earth: these shall be the losers.
28. How can you refuse to acknowledge God, seeing that you were lifeless and He gave
you life, and that He will cause you to die and then will bring you again to life, then
to Him you shall return?
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29. It is He who hath created for you all that is on earth; and has applied His design to
the heavens and fashioned them into seven heavens; and He alone has full knowl-
edge of everything.
In these verses for the first time we encounter the idea of paradise. With all
that is alleged and claimed for Muslim visions of paradise in our day and age,
we need to consider this passage carefully.
I have always loved the image of janna (literally ‘the garden’) in this passage,
‘graced with flowing streams’ and containing all the mouth-watering fruits one
can imagine. It always puts me in mind of glorious summer days, enjoying a
refreshing picnic in the most perfect garden with the best possible company;
something better even than the holidays I always long for. And I have no doubt
this image inspired the art of garden building. Wonderful examples of gardens
grace traditional Muslim cities around the world. Interior courtyards of tradi-
tional houses have miniature gardens replete with the pleasing sound of foun-
tains of running water. The idea of paradise inspired the detailed consideration
of how this vision could be captured in this world as a reminder of the world
to come. Religion, after all, is or should be the endeavour to make this earth
as much of a paradise as possible.
This same vision of paradise is repeated elsewhere in the Qur’an with varia-
tions of phrasing. The rivers are such ‘as time does not corrupt’ (47:15): its
fruits and shade will be everlasting (13:35). It will be a place of perpetual bliss,
enjoying the fruits of our good deeds in the forgiveness of our Sustainer.
The vision of Paradise comes after the clear message that God has created a
world capable of being a terrestrial paradise. It is a ‘couch’ under the canopy of
the heavens, watered by rain that produces the ‘fruits for your sustenance’. This
earthly garden of God’s creation should be cherished, nurtured and looked
after in gratitude. And for all that we make of the bounty of the earth we
should give thanks to its Maker, God Alone. I see this as a reminder that how-
ever learned, skilful and inventive humanity becomes in harnessing the
resources of the earth, we are only employing the faculties and potential, the
endowments given by our Creator. We use and manufacture but do not in the
ultimate sense ‘create’; we have responsibility to think carefully and pruden-
tially whether we make a garden or a wasteland of the earth created for our
benefit.
The Qur’an comes with ‘glad tidings’ to assure us of God’s plan for this
world and the Paradise to come. How can we be sure? We return again to the
question of doubt. Here it is answered with a creative intellectual challenge.
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AL-BAQARA: PARADISE
Those who doubt the source of the words revealed to Muhammad are invited
to ‘produce a single sura like it’. The distinctive, sublime use of the Arabic lan-
guage in the Qur’an, unlike any other Arabic text, makes it inimitable and is
testimony to its authorship, to its being a work that in structure and scope is
beyond human capability. The text itself, when examined, questioned by a
doubting mind, leads to the conclusion that its origin is not human but a rev-
elation of the divine. God is the ultimate guarantor of the uniqueness of His
Word; what other witnesses could be found? In the final analysis, being con-
scious of God through faith and the use of our reason is the only witness on
which we can rely.
The ‘glad tidings’, a phrase repeatedly used in the Qur’an to describe revela-
tion, is to assure ‘those who believe and do deeds of righteousness’ that the
completion of their existence in the Hereafter will be something far beyond
any bounty and delight experienced on earth. It will be an unending perfection
of everything we take to be necessary and delightful for true bliss. And in this
state of perfection we will ‘abide forever’.
But before I get carried away with thoughts of rest from my labours, there
are a host of earthly complications to deal with. Are Muslims paradise
obsessed? Is our particular promise of paradise really an incitement to mayhem
and murder?
Hardly! Paradise has to be earned. It is not for those who spread corruption
on the earth. And I have to admit I find it curious that, on the one hand, peo-
ple find Muslims too focused on religion in this life, fanatical about wanting
Islamic states and Islamic law; and then, on the other hand, consider us too
paradise obsessed, determined to get away from this world too quickly and
destructively, thereby bequeathing the task of state-building to those unscathed
and left behind.
Muslims are no more paradise obsessed then members of any other religion.
Have those making such claims never heard a Sunday sermon in a Christian
church of any denomination? Certainly, they have not consulted any of the
proliferating websites devoted to The Rapture, the doctrine of transport to
paradise especially favoured by American evangelical Christian groups. And
what about all those images of winged people sitting on clouds?
The Hereafter, for people of faith, is part of our true existence. This life is
not all we are or will be. However, the completion of our existence, whether
in paradise or hell, is beyond the reach of human perception. The Qur’an gives
us a ‘parable’ using allegory and metaphor to intimate, by analogy to the things
we know. We achieve a proper realisation of how to live by keeping the two
parts of our existence, here and hereafter, in balance.
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And what of the companions we will have in the supreme triumph (4:13)
of attaining paradise? They will be our spouses pure. In this passage (2: 25) the
term used is azwaj, plural of zawj, meaning spouse. In Arabic this word signi-
fies either of the two components of a couple, that is the male as well as the
female.
In four places in the Qur’an the word used for the companion is Hur, from
which comes the much used term houris. The word has many connotations,
variously interpreted as signifying pure and soulful. The most important point,
however, is that once again the word can signify either a male or a female. And
in the Qur’an no number is ever mentioned. So what of all the ‘72 virgins’ that
supposedly incite the activities of the paradise obsessed? What the Qur’an
actually says is that all who enter Paradise will have life renewed (56:34). In
the everlasting bliss of the eternal we will all, male and female, be restored to
our pure state, i.e. virginal innocence. The only antidote to the misogyny mar-
shalled by Muslims in their history is reading and understanding the equal
opportunity words of the Book.
There is one crucial popular misconception to be borne in mind: Paradise
is not self-selecting. It is not we, the individual believers, who determine or
even can ever know which of us gets to Paradise. The decision is not ours. It
belongs to God alone who knows everything, just as this passage concludes.
Human presumption has a great deal to answer for, but the greatest must be
the willingness to hand out or assume one has a ‘straight to Paradise’ ticket. To
me it is the most irreligious affront of all, nothing more than usurping God
for our own purposes.
Equally offensive is the abomination of thinking that by destroying what
God has made sacred—human life—one automatically has a passport to Para-
dise. No sophistry or contortions of perverted human reasoning can make such
a concept ‘Islamic’. It stands in stark and unequivocal contradiction to every-
thing the Qur’an has to teach. It is nothing but an indication of the debased
level of religious knowledge and understanding that anyone who professes to
be a Muslim could entertain or indulge such scurrilous notions. For all who
know, the Qur’an is quite explicit that anyone seduced by the unsubtle logic
of violence that leads to murder or suffering of innocent people faces a very
different prospect from Paradise. The analogy of Paradise in this passage is bal-
anced by the image of ‘the Fire whose fuel is men and stones’. Those who break
God’s covenant after God has established it, who sunder what God has com-
manded to be joined, and spread corruption on earth: ‘These shall be the los-
ers.’ And they will get just desserts quite different from the self-delusions they
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peddle to recruit those who fail to read and reason with the clear meaning of
the Sacred Text.
The vision of Paradise is a similitude, a parable. This passage contains a clear
warning that what is presented is an approximation, a way of suggesting some-
thing that is beyond human perception. It is not literal; it is an indication of
the spirit of the thing, not a description of the thing itself, the truth of which
we can never discover in this world. Yet, all religions have spent inordinate
energy either insisting that the metaphor and allegorical are actual, or exten-
sively defining and detailing what no human intellect can ever determine. I am
ever ready to let the poetic vision of the Qur’an stimulate my imagination.
However, the gladdest tidings I can imagine are the thought that my ideas are
but a poor intimation of what awaits if I earn a place in Paradise.
The previous passage used the interplay between those who ‘spend’ and
those who ‘prosper’. Here there is the counterpoint that identifies those who
are the losers. Who will be a loser: those ‘who sunder what God has com-
manded to be joined, and spread corruption on earth’. We are about to consider
a number of passages concerned with the diversity of human society and the
coexistence of different faiths. The Qur’an is at pains to emphasise the com-
monality and continuity that underlie human social, cultural and religious
differences. Yet man-made division, and our dedication to excluding and exclu-
sive identities is a prime mover in spreading the corruption of violence, hatred
and mutual distrust on earth. So if we have to spend and distribute to prosper,
do we not also have to join together and promote co-existence to save ourselves
from joining ‘the losers’? And if to ‘prosper’ is to be understood as flourishing
in the widest sense, then losing too has the widest connotations. What is lost
is the humanity, the integrity, the very soul of those who violate God’s cove-
nant. They have deceived, deluded and lost themselves and their true purpose.
In the final analysis there is no better riposte to the corruption that men of
violence have made of the Qur’an’s vision of Paradise.
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AL-BAQARA
FALL AND EVIL
30. And when your Lord said to the angels: ‘I will create a vicegerent on earth’, they
said: ‘Will You place therein one who will spread corruption and shed blood, whilst
we hymn Your praise and glorify Your holy (name)?’ God answered: ‘I know that
which you know not.’
31. And He taught Adam the names of all things; then showed them to the angels, and
said: ‘Tell me the names of these things if you are truthful.’
32. They said: ‘Glory be to Thee! We have no knowledge except what You taught us. In
truth, You are All Knowing, All Wise.’
33. He said: ‘O Adam! Reveal to them their names.’ When Adam revealed their names,
God said: ‘Did I not tell you that I know the secrets of heaven and earth, and I know
what you make public and what you conceal?’
34. And behold, We said to the angels: ‘Prostrate yourselves before Adam’ and they all
bowed down, save Iblis, who refused and gloried in his arrogance: and thus he be-
came one of those who deny the truth.
35. We said: ‘O Adam! Dwell you and your wife in the Garden; and eat of the bounti-
ful things therein as you will; but do not approach this one tree, lest you become
wrongdoers.’
36. Then Satan caused them to slip and thus brought about the loss of their erstwhile
state. And so We said: ‘Down with you, [and be henceforth] enemies unto one an-
other; and on earth you shall have your abode and your livelihood for a while.’
37. Then Adam received words [of guidance] from his Lord and He relented towards
him; for He is Oft-Returning, Most Merciful.
38. We said: ‘Get down all from here; and when My guidance comes to you, whosoever
follows My guidance need have no fear, neither shall they grieve.
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39. ‘But those who are bent on denying the truth and giving the lie to Our messages, they
are destined for the fire, and therein shall they abide.”
It is appropriate, in light of the contemporary significance some Muslims

ascribe to the parable of Paradise, that we move immediately to the subject of
the fall from grace. The Qur’an’s juxtaposition of the two subjects speaks
directly to connections that have to be made here and now. Juxtaposition is a
technique employed throughout the Qur’an: the connections we have to con-
sider are not only between verses within a passage, but also how one passage
is connected and helps one reflect more deeply on the meaning of another.
Here we learn not only of the creation of humanity, of the faculties endowed
on us in our creation; we are also reminded of the ease with which we can deny
and debase our humanity. The parable of Adam and his wife is a conceptual
account of our origin. Their fate, the fall from grace, is an ever present possibil-
ity for those who stray from the straight path of God’s guidance and will not
repent and reform.
The first thing to make clear is that this is not the Biblical story of Adam
and Eve. So beware of similarities and differences from which flow big implica-
tions. The parable of Adam gives us a clear definition of the origin and purpose
of human creation. However, Adam is identified not merely as the first man—
but also the first prophet. His companion is simply referred to as his wife; she
is not called Eve. Further, there is most definitely no suggestion that she is a
subordinate creation; she is not fashioned after the fact and from Adam. Both
are conceptual representatives of humanity, both are going to be the successors
or inheritors of God on earth.
First God informs the angels He intends to add a new order to creation. So
what are angels? They too are part of creation, they praise God and act in total
obedience. We know the angel Gibreel (Gabriel) was the intermediary who
brought God’s Word to Muhammad. Beyond that I have no knowledge of
angelic hosts and am quite content; although others may know better. If I can
accept the need for quarks and the gluons of quantum theory and a string
theory universe of umpteen dimensions, I can happily live with the concept of
angels. This is not to say I am indifferent or uninterested. It is the case that even
while wrestling for as intelligent a reading and understanding of the Qur’an as
possible, I am ready to admit there remain things I do not comprehend. Such
realisation is salutary. When I reach the limit of what I think I can compre-
hend, the only sensible option is to say so and leave the truth of what I do not
know to God, not endlessly speculate on what is beyond my perception.
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AL-BAQARA: FALL AND EVIL
Understanding the purpose of this new order that God announces to the
angels is a subject much more necessary to understand, and thankfully some-
thing I think I do comprehend. This new order takes a distinctive place within
God’s creation. God introduces humanity as khalifa. This is a central concept
of Islam. The word is often translated, as I do here, as ‘vice-regent’, but it also
has the sense and can be translated as ‘trustee’. Khalifa includes the notion of
succession, of one who succeeds another, or inherits. What we inherit is our
place in God’s created order. This whole passage deals with the limits and
ongoing relationship with God that comes with being the khalifa or trustee of
God.
Our inheritance is not outright ownership but a conditional trust: we have
to discharge our trust responsibly with accountability to God. We will each
have to answer for how we used this inheritance. We must answer for our own
actions; we must answer for how we operated our relationships with our fellow
human beings; we must answer for how we cared for and utilised the resources
of the world in which we live. And, as the term implies, we live as part of suc-
ceeding generations of human beings and thus have responsibilities towards
future generations. We are responsible for handing on the trust of this world
in as good a state as possible for the use and benefit of those who come after
us. The concept of khalifa relates directly to the distributive idea of the inter-
play between ‘spend’ and ‘prosper’ discussed previously. It is indicative of the
way that passages of the Qur’an overlay, interact with and reinforce our under-
standing of the meaning and significance of words.
To be human is to have abilities: this is symbolised in God teaching Adam
the ‘names of all things’. The word for names (ism) is understood to mean the
ability to define and distinguish between things, the essence of reasoning and
conceptual thought. We are created with the capacity to be knowledgeable
beings with the ability to learn. Learning and knowledge are by their very
nature cumulative, so I take it as axiomatic that we have the potential as well
as the responsibility to progress in understanding. To know the names is the
basis of language. As the Qur’an makes clear (30:22, 49:13), the diversity of
human languages, cultures and races and nations is part of the intention of
creation. Therefore, whatever the language or cultures of our birth, the chal-
lenge is to employ these endowments, to use our abilities to make the best of
our life on earth.
The angels are not entirely convinced; and who can blame them? Human
beings will ‘spread corruption’ and ‘shed blood’ on earth, say the angels—well,
they got that right. So the obvious point of God requiring the angels to bow
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to humanity, in the symbolic personages of Adam and his wife, is to emphasise

that we have the capacity, the potential to do better. We can rise above angels
in our good deeds.
The test presented to Adam and his wife is the practical demonstration of
both human weakness and the better way. The couple are granted all they need
to sustain a bountiful existence but they are given one limit, one ‘do not’, to
observe. We learn more of the nature of this test when the Qur’an retells this
incident (7:10–25; 20:115–27). Iblis, otherwise known as Satan, convinces
them that the limit is unnecessary and against their interest. And by listening
and being led by the arrogant and defiant angel, Adam and his wife lose the
innocence in which they were created.
Both Adam and his spouse disobey God, but they did not commit an irre-
deemable sin. They made a slip. No special blame is placed on Adam’s wife for
leading him astray. No one feels ashamed of their nakedness. Both repent and
both are forgiven. There are no bloodcurdling Old Testament curses from God
about the pain of childbirth or the ‘painful toil’ of humanity. This is definitely
not the drama of Christianity’s ‘Original Sin’.
Instead, the emphasis is placed on the nature of Iblis. His stock in trade is
arrogance—the prime conceptual evil in Islam. It is arrogance, the Qur’an says,
that can lead to the downfall of humanity. That is why we need to be humble;
humility before God and His creation is the main virtue in Islam. And just as
our relationship with God and God’s guidance is ongoing, so is our relation-
ship with Iblis, the temptation to be arrogant. Iblis is always with us in the
form of hubris, the inclination to play God, and our myopia in not recognising
that there are limits to our actions as well as our understanding. Arrogance is
inimical to prudential reasoning, to accepting that for all we know and learn
we also accumulate ignorance of the questions we do not ask, the risks we do
not and cannot comprehend. In short, arrogance is what causes us to ignore
our fallibilities.
After being led astray, falling from grace, humanity is forgiven. The concep-
tual parable of human creation is a precursor to our existence on this earth.
The story of Adam and his wife is the prelude to terrestrial time and history.
In this world Adam is the first prophet, the first to be given words of guidance
from God. Human history begins with a message of God’s guidance and the
assurance that there will be a succession of prophets bringing God’s Word to
all people. For all who succeed Adam and his wife in the life of this world,
there will be the selfsame challenge and reward.
Conceptually Adam and his wife serve to explain the origin and purpose of
all humanity. All humans emerge from God’s forgiveness. All are born pure.
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AL-BAQARA: FALL AND EVIL
The parable is not ‘once upon a time’ but a description in and for all time of
the human condition.
The allegory of the fall from grace is actually a message of hope. Human
beings will always be faced with the task of living responsibly, and will also
have to beware of and confront the temptation of arrogant disregard. But those
who live creatively and constructively according to God’s guidance ‘need have
no fear and neither shall they grieve’. This phrase is repeated many times in the
Qur’an, I find it immensely encouraging, a beautiful and consoling thought
but one that, nevertheless, has to be earned.
While it is quite clear that this is not the Biblical story of Adam and Eve,
its fate in Muslim scholarship has undermined the subtle conceptual distinc-
tions the Qur’an presents. Muslim scholars through history have had recourse
to the Biblical version to find a name for Mrs Adam: she has been dubbed
Hawwa. And in their commentaries they have introduced a great deal of
misogyny, by way of reasoning from the Biblical story and inveigling their own
cultural conventions and predilections into their interpretations of the Qur’an.
This legacy has been handed on to the fables, folk tales and prognostications
of Muslim thought; a perfect example of why we need to be aware of the pre-
conceptions we bring, as well as those that have been brought, to reading the
Qur’an.
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AL-BAQARA
‘CHILDREN OF ISRAEL’
40. O Children of Israel! Remember the blessings which I bestowed upon you, and fulfil
your covenant with Me as I fulfil My Covenant with you, and fear none but Me.
41. Believe in that which I reveal, confirming what you possess, and be not the first to re-
ject Faith therein, nor sell My Signs for a small price; and fear Me, and Me alone.
42. And do not confound Truth with falsehood, and do not knowingly suppress the
Truth.
43. And be steadfast in prayer; and spend in charity; and bow down in prayer with all
who thus bow down.
44. Do you bid others to piety and forget (to practise it) yourselves, while you recite the
Scripture? Will you not then use your reason?
45. Seek help in patience and prayer: it is indeed hard, except to the humble in spirit,
46. Who know that they will have to meet their Lord, and that to Him they shall return.
47. Children of Israel! Remember My bounty which I bestowed upon you, and that I
preferred you above all humankind.
48. Then guard yourselves against a day when one soul shall not avail another nor shall
intercession be accepted, nor shall compensation be taken, and no helpers are at
hand.
49. Remember when We delivered you from the people of Pharaoh: who afflicted you
with cruel suffering, slaughtering your sons and debauching your women; and that
was a grievous trial from your Lord.
50. Remember when We cleft the sea before you and thus saved you and drowned Pha-
raoh’s people within your very sight.
51. Remember when We appointed for Moses forty nights of solitude, and in his absence
you took to worshipping the calf, and did grievous wrong.
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52. Then, even after that, We pardoned you in order that you might give thanks.
53. Remember We gave Moses the Scripture and thus a standard to discern right from
wrong that you might be guided aright.
54. And remember Moses said to his people: ‘O my people! You have sinned against
yourselves by worshipping the calf: So turn (in repentance) to your Maker, and kill
the guilty among yourselves; that will be best for you in the sight of your Maker.’
And thereupon He accepted your repentance. For He alone is Oft-Returning, Most
Merciful.
55. And remember you said: ‘O Moses! We shall never believe in you until we see God
openly’, whereupon the thunderbolt struck before your very eyes.
56. But We raised you up again after you had been as dead that you might give thanks.
57. And We gave you the shade of clouds and sent down manna and quails, saying: ‘Eat
of the good things We have provided for you: they did Us no wrong; it was themselves
they wronged.’
58. And remember We said: ‘Enter this town, and eat of the plenty therein as you wish;
but enter the gate with humility, and say: “Repentence” and We shall forgive you
your sins and amply reward those who do good.’
59. But the sinners altered the words which had been given them; so We sent down a
plague from heaven as a punishment for their iniquity.
60. And remember when Moses prayed for water for his people; We said: ‘Strike the rock
with thy staff ’ and twelve springs gushed forth. Every group knew its own place for
water. So eat and drink of that which God has provided, and do not act corruptly,
making mischief on the earth.
61. And remember when you said: ‘O Moses! we cannot endure one kind of food (al-
ways); so pray to your Lord for us that He may bring out what plants there are on
earth—green herbs, cucumbers, garlic, lentils, and onions.’ He said: ‘Would you ex-
change what is of lesser worth for what is better? Go back in shame to Egypt and then
you can have what you are asking for!’ And it was thus that humility and wretched-
ness overshadowed them and they were laden with the burden of God’s anger: all
this because they disbelieved God’s revelations and slew the prophets wrongfully out
of disobedience and persisted in transgressing the bounds of what is right.
62. Surely, they that believe (in this revelation), and those who are Jews and Christians
and Sabaeans—all who believe in God and the Last Day, and do righteous deeds
shall have their reward with their Lord; and no fear shall be on them, neither shall
they grieve.
63. Remember when We made the covenant with you and raised Mount Sinai above
you: ‘Hold fast to what We have revealed to you! Remember what it contains that
you might remain conscious of God.’
64. Then, even after that you turned away, and had it not been for the Grace of God
upon you and His mercy you would surely have been lost.
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AL-BAQARA: CHILDREN OF ISRAEL
65. And you know full well about those amongst you who transgressed the Sabbath: and
We said to them: ‘Be as apes, most wretched!’
66. So We made it an example to their own time and to their posterity, and a lesson to
all who are conscious of God.
67. Remember when Moses said to his people: ‘God commands you to sacrifice a cow.’
They said: ‘Are you mocking us?’ He said: ‘I seek refuge with God against being so
ignorant!’
68. They said: ‘Pray to your Lord for us that He make clear to us what she is to be like.’
He said: ‘God says: it is a cow neither too old nor too young, but of middling age.
Now do what ye are commanded!’
69. They said: ‘Pray on our behalf to your Lord that He make clear to us what her colour
should be.’ Moses said: ‘He says it is a yellow cow, bright of hue, a joy to behold.’
70. They said: ‘Pray on our behalf to your Lord that He point her out to us, for cows are
all alike to us and we, God willing, shall be guided.’
71. Moses answered: He says: ‘A cow neither yoked to plough the earth nor to water the
fields; sound and without blemish.’ They said: ‘At last you have brought out the
truth.’ And so they offered her in sacrifice, although they had almost left it undone.
72. And remember when you killed a soul and disputed among yourselves about the
crime: But God always reveals what you hide.
73. So We said: ‘Strike the dead man with a piece of the cow.’ This is how God resurrects
the dead and reveals His wonders to you; perhaps you will understand.
74. Then, even after that your hearts were hardened: becoming like a rock or even harder.
For among rocks there are some from which rivers gush forth; and some have cracks
from which water flows; and there are some which fall down for awe of God. And
God is not unmindful of what you do.
75. Can you really expect them to believe in the message sent to you, when a group among
them would hear the word of God and then pervert it, knowingly, after having
grasped its meaning?
76. For when they meet those who have attained to faith they say: ‘We believe’: But when
they meet one another in private, they say: ‘Do you speak to them of what God has
revealed to you, so that they dispute with you before your Lord?’ Have you no under-
standing (of their aim)?
77. Know they not that God knows what they conceal and what they proclaim?
78. And there are among them unlettered folk who have no real knowledge of Scripture,
but follow only wishful fancies and mere conjectures.
79. Woe, then, to those who write Scripture with their own hands, and then claim ‘This
is from God’, that they may sell it for a trifling gain! Woe to them for what their
hands have written! Woe to them for the profit they made!
80. And they say: ‘The Fire shall touch us for a few days only’: Say to them: ‘Have you re-
ceived a promise from God—for God never breaks His promise—or do you attribute
to God something you cannot know?’
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81. Nay, those who seek gain in evil, and are encompassed by their sins, these are inhabit-
ants of the Fire: There shall they dwell forever.
82. But those who have faith and do good deeds, they are inhabitants of the Garden:
There shall they dwell forever.
83. And remember We made a covenant with the Children of Israel: ‘You shall worship
none but God; be kind to your parents and kindred, orphans and those in need;
speak kindly to people; be steadfast in prayer; and pay the poor due. Then you turned
away, except a few among you, and recanted.
84. And remember We accepted your covenant that: ‘You shall not shed one another’s
blood, nor shall you drive one another out of your homes.’ And this you solemnly
ratified, and to this you can bear witness.
85. But there you are, killing one another, and driving one party among you from their
homes; joining forces against them, in sin and hatred; and if they come to you as
captives, you ransom them, though it was not lawful for you to banish them. Do you
then believe in one portion of the Book and disbelieve another? And what is the—
reward for those who do so, save ignominy in this life, and on the Day of Resurrection
away to the most grievous doom. God is not unmindful of what you do.
86. All who buy the life of this world at the price of the life to come—their punishment
shall not be lightened nor shall they be helped.
87. We revealed the Book to Moses and We sent after him messengers in a succession of
apostles; We granted Jesus the son of Mary clear signs and strengthened him with the
holy spirit. Whenever a messenger came to you with something that was not to your
liking, did you not grow arrogant, calling some liars and killing others?
88. And they say, ‘Our hearts are shrouded.’ Nay, God has cursed them for their unbelief.
Little is their faith.
89. And when there comes to them a Book from God, confirming the truth already
in their possession—and [bear in mind] they had previously called for God’s help
against those without Faith—when there came to them that which they knew [to be
the truth] they would deny it. God’s curse is on those without Faith.
90. Miserable is the price for which they sold their souls, that they should disbelieve in
what God has revealed, in envy that God would make His Grace descend on whom-
ever He wills of his creatures! And their lot was anger piled upon anger. And a hum-
bling punishment awaits those who reject Faith.
91. When it is said to them, ‘Believe in what God has sent down’, they say, ‘We believe
[only] in what was sent down to us’: and they deny the truth of everything else,
although it be a truth confirming what they themselves possess. Say to them: ‘Why
then did you kill previous prophets of God, if you are true believers?’
92. Moses came to you with clear signs; yet while he was away you worshipped the calf
and acted wickedly.
93. And remember We covenanted with you and raised above you the towering Mount
(Sinai): (Saying): ‘Hold fast to what We have revealed to you, and listen’: They
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said: ‘We hear, and we disobey’: And they were made to drink into their hearts
love of the calf because of their faithlessness. Say: ‘Vile is that which your belief com-
mands if indeed you are believers!’
94. Say: ‘If an afterlife with God is to be for you alone, to the exclusion of all other
people, then you should long for death—if what you say is true!’
95. But never will they long for it, because [they are aware] of what their hands have
sent ahead in this world: and God has full knowledge of evildoers;
96. And you shall find them the eagerest of men for life. And of the idolators there is one
of them wishes if he might be spared a thousand years: but the grant of such life will
not save him from punishment. For God sees full well all that they do.
97. Say: ‘Who is an enemy to Gabriel!’ For he it is who has revealed this Scripture to
your heart, by God’s leave, confirming that which was revealed before it, a guidance
and glad tidings to the believers;
98. Whoever is an enemy of God and His angels and His messengers, of Gabriel and
Michael, surely God is the enemy of all who deny the truth.
99. We have sent down to you manifest signs (ayat); only the dissolute can disbelieve
them.
100. Is it ever so that when they make a covenant, a party of them cast it aside? The truth
is most of them believe not.
101. And when a messenger from God came to them, confirming what they already pos-
sessed, a group among them to whom Scripture had been sent turned their backs on
the Book of God, as if they did not know!
102. Instead they followed what the evils ones used to practise during the reign of Sol-
omon. But it was not Solomon who disbelieved; rather it was the evil ones who
taught humankind sorcery and such things as were revealed at Babylon to the an-
gels Harut and Marut. But these two taught no one without first telling them: ‘We
are but a temptation to evil: so do not disbelieve.’ Yet they learned from these two
how to create discord between man and wife. But whereas they can do no harm to
anyone with their sorcery, except by God’s leave, they learn what harms them, and
does them no good. They know full well that he who deals in sorcery has no share
in the good of the life to come. And surely evil is the price for which they sold their
souls, if they but knew!
103. Had they believed and been conscious of God, the reward from their Lord would
have been best, if they but knew!
104. O you who have attained to faith! Do not say [to the Prophet], ‘Listen to us’, but
rather say, ‘Have patience with us’, and be attentive listeners, since grievous suffer-
ing awaits those who deny the truth.
105. It is never the wish of those without Faith among the People of the Book, or among
the polytheists, that any bounty should come down to you from your Lord. But God
singles out for His Mercy whom He will, for God’s grace is limitless.
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106. None of Our revelations do We abrogate or cause to be forgotten, but We substitute

something better or similar: Do you not know that God has power over all things?
107. Do you not know that to God belongs the dominion of the heavens and the earth?
And besides Him you have neither patron nor helper.
108. Or do you wish to question your Messenger as Moses was questioned of old? But
whoever chooses to deny the truth rather than believing in it has strayed from the
right path.
109. Among the People of the Book there are many who from selfish envy wish they could
turn you back to unbelief after you have attained to faith—even after the truth has
become clear to them. But forgive and pardon them, until God shall make manifest
His will; for God has power over all things.
110. And be steadfast in prayer and pay the purifying dues (zakat): for whatever good
deed you do, laid by for your souls in this life, you shall surely find with God, for
God sees all that you do.
111. And they say: ‘None shall enter Paradise unless he be a Jew or a Christian.’ These
are their own wishes. Say to them: ‘Show me your proof if you are truthful.’
112. Yes, indeed: everyone who surrenders his whole self to God and is a doer of good
shall receive his reward from his Lord; and all such need have no fear, and neither
shall they grieve.
113. The Jews say: ‘The Christians have no valid ground for their beliefs’; and the Chris-
tians say: ‘The Jews have no valid ground for their beliefs.’ Yet both recite the Book.
The ignorant repeat their statements. But God will judge between them on the Day
of Resurrection regarding that upon which they differ.
114. And who is more impious than he who forbids that in places for worship of God,
God’s name should be celebrated and devotes himself to their destruction? These
shall not enter them except in fear. For them there is nothing but disgrace in this
world, and in the world to come, a terrible punishment.
115. To God belong the East and the West: Wherever you turn, there is the face of God.
For God is all-Encompassing, all-Knowing.
116. They say: ‘God has fathered a son’: Glory be to Him. To Him rather belongs all that
is in the heavens and on earth: everything obeys His Will.
117. Marvellous Creator of the heavens and the earth! When He decrees a matter, He
merely says to it: ‘Be’, and it is.
118. The ignorant say: ‘If only God would speak to us! If only a sign would descend upon
us!’ This too was said by past generations, word for word. Their hearts are alike.
Indeed, We have made all the signs manifest unto people who are endowed with
inner certainty.
119. Verily, We have sent you with the truth as a bearer of glad tidings and a warner;
and you are not accountable for the denizens of hell.
120. Never will the Jews or the Christians be satisfied with you unless you follow their
creeds. Say: ‘God’s guidance is the only true guidance.’ If you follow their whims
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after the knowledge which has come to you, then you would have in God neither
patron nor champion.
121. Those to whom We revealed the Book [and who] study it as it should be studied:
They are the ones who believe in it. But those who repudiate it, they are truly lost.
122. O Children of Israel! Remember my bounty which I bestowed upon you, and that I
preferred you above all others.
123. Then guard yourselves against a Day when no soul can atone one whit for another,
when no ransom is accepted for it, when no intercession can profit it and no helpers
are at hand.
124. And remember when his Lord tested Abraham with certain commands, which he
fulfilled: God said: ‘I will appoint you a leader of men.’ Abraham said: ‘And of my
offspring as well?’ God answered: ‘Evildoers shall not enjoy My covenant.’
125. Remember when We set up the House as a place of assembly for humankind, a sanc-
tuary: ‘Take the station of Abraham as a place of worship.’ And We commanded
Abraham and Isma’il to sanctify My House for those who walk around it, or use it
as a retreat, or bow, or prostrate themselves (in prayer).
126. And remember Abraham said: ‘My Lord, make this land secure, and grant its
people fruitful sustenance, such of them as believe in God and the Last Day.’ God
answered: ‘And whoever disbelieves,for a while will I grant them their pleasure,
then shall consign him to the torment of Fire—a wretched journey’s end.’
127. Remember when Abraham and Isma’il were raising up the foundations of the
House [they prayed]: ‘Our Lord, accept this from us: for You alone are All-Hear-
ing, All-knowing.
128. ‘Our Lord, make us surrender ourselves to You, and of our descendants a commu-
nity which surrenders itself to You; and show us our ways of worship; and forgive
us; for You are All-Forgiving, Most Merciful.
129. ‘Our Lord, send them a Messenger from amongst themselves, who shall recite to
them Your verses and instruct them in Scripture and wisdom, and make them
pure: for You are Almighty, the All-Wise.’
130. Who therefore abandons the religion of Abraham, except he be foolish-minded? We
chose Abraham in this present world, and in the world to come he shall be among
the righteous.
131. Remember when his Lord said to him: ‘Surrender’, He said: ‘I have surrendered
myself to the Sustainer of the Universe.’
132. And this was the legacy that Abraham entrusted to his children, as did Jacob; ‘Oh
my children, God has chosen the pure religion for you; see that you die, not save in
surrender.’
133. Were you witness when death came to Jacob? When he said to his sons: ‘Whom
will you worship after I am gone?’ They said: ‘We shall worship your God and
the God of your fathers, of Abraham, Isma’il and Isaac, the One God. To Him we
surrender.’
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134. Those are a people who have passed away. They have earned their reward, and yours
is that which you earn. You will not be held responsible for what they did.
135. They say: ‘Become Jews or Christians and you will be rightly guided.’ Say: ‘Nay,
rather the creed of Abraham, a man of pure faith; he was no idolator.’
136. Say: ‘We believe in God, and what was revealed to us, in what was revealed to
Abraham, Isma’il, Isaac, Jacob and the Tribes, in what was revealed to Moses and
Jesus, in what was revealed to the prophets by their Lord. We make no distinction
between any of them: And to Him we surrender.’
137. If they then believe as you believe, they are rightly guided. If they turn away, it is
they who are in discord. God will deal with them on your behalf; He is the All-
Hearing, the All-Knowing.
138. The hue of God is upon us! And what better hue than God’s? It is Him we wor-
ship.
139. Say: ‘Do you argue with us about God, He is our Lord and your Lord. Our deeds
belong to us and to you belong your deeds; Him we serve sincerely.
140. Or are you saying that Abraham, Isma’il, Isaac, Jacob and the Tribes were Jews or
Christians? Say: ‘Are you more knowledgeable than God? Who is more unjust than
he who conceals a testimony he has received from God?’ God is not unmindful of
what you do.
141. Those are a people who have passed away. They have earned their reward, and yours
is that which you earn. You will not be held responsible for what they did.
This is a very long section, yet it seems to me that it needs to be viewed in

its entirety to grasp its significance. The passage weaves backwards and for-
wards, interlacing its reference to the past and the present of the time of Rev-
elation. I regard this passage as essential to understanding the Qur’anic
conception of religion, and vital for coming to terms with the plurality of reli-
gion in history and the present day. Furthermore, this passage is one of the best
demonstrations of how the Qur’an simultaneously addresses multiple frames
of reference. There is the past time of previous prophets, the present of the time
of Muhammad and the diversity of the peoples who formed the community
of Medina, while it also infers and relates to all subsequent history, from
Muhammad’s time and our own, as well as addressing today and our future.
Each of these frames of reference is necessary to appreciate the implications of
these verses. If Muslims are to play their part in making multifaith, multicul-
tural societies a lived reality, as this passage and others throughout the Qur’an
insist they must, then here is where we begin to wrestle with the very human
obstacles that must be overcome.
Here for the first time the Qur’an makes extended references to revelation
and religious communities which precede the revelation to Muhammad, ‘those
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that went before’ who have already been mentioned. It refers to the reaction
and treatment meted out to previous prophets as a context for understanding
the problems in Medina at the time of the Prophet. It gives examples of how
communities in history have deviated, distorted and disregarded the message
brought by prophets. These examples expand on some of the themes alluded
to in ‘the Hypocrites’, and clearly relate to the challenge faced by Muhammad
and the fledgling Muslim community. The historic contexts, both preceding
and including the time of Muhammad, are relevant to all subsequent time. The
examples identified relate to the human interpretation of religion, what people
made of God’s Word in the course of history. They provide principles by which
to interrogate how Muslims since the time of the Prophet fared in translating
the Word of God, the Qur’an, into an organised religion, Islam, and the basis
for communities and nations where Islam is the predominant religion.
The principles also speak directly to the questions of how to live in a world
of diversity and difference and how to operate a multifaith society. The Qur’an
insists on the ethics of mutual acceptance. This acceptance is rooted in the
recurring themes of continuity and commonality. Each revelation is from God
and therefore further confirms the Oft Forgiving, Oft Returning nature of
God. The essence of the messages over time is always the same: a guidance on
how to live a just, equitable and peaceful life; how to make the world a better
place for everyone. Human perversity as well as ignorance can turn what is
open and available to all into intricate, complicated means to divide people.
Instead of God consciousness and guidance being the moral principles which
bring people together, it becomes the embodiment of the most irreducible dif-
ferences, the cause of irreconcilable dispute. This passage is emphatic that the
overarching duty of religion is the same for everyone, and therefore provides
a means for people of faith and good conscience to work together.
First, and most obviously, in this passage, the Qur’an is addressing Prophet
Muhammad and the small community of believers who followed him on his
flight from Mecca to Medina. This sura is the first to be revealed after the hijra,
literally the migration, when the Prophet and his small persecuted band of
followers abandoned their homes and possessions and made their way to a new
city, Yathrib, which was renamed Madinat ul-Nabi, the city of the Prophet. The
migration in the year 622 CE marks the beginning of the Muslim calendar.
Reviled and oppressed by the Meccans, the Prophet and his followers were
invited to take refuge by residents of Yathrib who had accepted the message
preached by Muhammad. But Yathrib/Medina remained a mixed community.
So the Qur’an also addresses itself to this population. Apart from those citizens
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who had embraced Islam, there are Jews and Christians, as well as polytheists,
those who still worshipped the various deities of pre-Islamic Arabia. And we
don’t need to be reminded of the tensions that can be caused by a sudden influx
of migrants, especially ones with different religion and customs! Added to
which the new arrivals were a source of potential danger for the citizens of
Medina. The Meccans continued to regard the new religion as a strategic threat
to the prosperity of their city. This is the context, the circumstances and the
people addressed.
But there is more. For this passage concerns itself with the history and devel-
opment of both the Jewish and Christian religions. It refers to the past to help
explain the present in the Medina of the Prophet, and to help guide the new
community of faith, the Muslims, on how to deal with their contemporary
difficulties and shape their future. What is being said in very particular circum-
stances has meaning and relevance for people everywhere at any time, includ-
ing the present day. To get to the meaning one has to think through and
with all these overlapping frames of reference. No one perspective is sufficient
in itself.
The understanding I take from this is that acceptance of plurality is a basic
requirement. Diversity is a fact of life, a theme dealt with in many places in the
Qur’an. Acceptance is based on two things: the presumptive perpetuity of
diversity; and that diversity is both an intentional part of God’s plan as well as
a test for all people of faith and good conscience.
There is a clear presumption that Jewish and Christian communities will
continue to exist. The Qur’an is establishing the basis on which Muslims
should understand and come to terms with the existence of these other reli-
gious communities and not fall into the all too human traps of responding as
Jews and Christians in Medina did to the arrival of Muslims and the revelation
of Islam.
The principal basis for acceptance is continuity. Prophet Muhammad, we
are told, is not bringing a new message: the ‘new Prophet’ is retelling an old
narrative. Three familiar names—Moses, Jesus, Abraham—are discussed, not
just to indicate the continuation of the monotheistic tradition, but also to
establish the fact that Prophet Muhammad is part of a long line of previous
prophets. And the Qur’an is explicit in verse 136: Muslims are to believe the
guidance given to Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac and Joseph and their descendants,
to Moses and Jesus, ‘and all that has been vouchsafed to all [other] prophets
by their Sustainer: we make no distinction between any of them.’
Continuity, acceptance and respect for all prophets are the foundation of
the Qur’an’s most basic message. As verse 62 says: ‘all who believe in God and
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the Last Day and do righteous deeds shall have their reward with their Sus-
tainer; and no fear need they have, and neither shall they grieve.’ How do we
know this is the essence of the message? Because this same passage recurs sev-
eral times throughout the Qur’an.
There is commonality in the guidance and warning God has given to all
peoples. The basis of religion is the same for everyone. But, as this passage
makes clear, religion is not only the guidance from God, it is also how human
societies have understood and interpreted the message. We are confronted with
the vexed distinction between what religion could, should and ought to be
and what communities say and do in the name of religion, a distinction no less
real in the time of Muhammad than it is today.
In reprising incidents familiar from the Bible, the Qur’an assumes a basic
familiarity. It is not concerned with retelling the narratives in detail. Its style
is to refer to particular known narratives to highlight significant lessons and
point to very real differences. There are considerable differences between what
the Qur’an tells Muslims and what is believed by Christians and Jews. Jesus is
definitively a Prophet who preached God’s Word, but like all other prophets
he is human. Judaism is not an exclusive possession only for an ethnic ‘chosen
people’. Clearly these differences were among the reasons the Jews and Chris-
tians of Medina derided Muhammad, questioned his mission as a Prophet and
sought to make him deviate from his mission. How we should deal with such
religious differences is made clear in verse 109: ‘None the less, forgive and for-
bear, until God shall make manifest His will.’ In plural societies where there
are competing claims to what is the truth of religion, forgiveness and forbear-
ance are the necessary operational ethics of mutual tolerance—the full under-
standing of what distinguishes one belief from another rests with God and not
human religious communities.
A community may receive guidance from God, but there is no guarantee
they will remain faithful to that guidance. The example given is the story of
the golden calf, but the point is more extensive. Throughout history humans
have erred. In spite of worshipping the golden calf, a cardinal sin in monothe-
ism, they were forgiven. The Children of Israel are said to have altered God’s
word (v.75), to feign belief (v.76) and to have claimed immunity from hell (v.
80), yet they are forgiven. This is a reiteration of the forgiveness we saw earlier
in the case of Adam and his wife. Thus, forgiveness is for all, right from the
beginning with Adam and his spouse in Paradise, to ‘those who follow the Jew-
ish faith and the Christians’, right through the line of the prophets to the
people in Medina, moving on to everyone doing ‘righteous deeds’ in our
own time.
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Forgiveness belongs to God and is open to everyone. But this passage dwells
on the fact that recipients of previous revelations have made what should be
open and available to all into exclusive and exclusionary claims to theirs being
the entire and only truth. The problem here is arrogance; the word used here,
isakbara, is the same as that used earlier to describe the behaviour of Iblis. Both
Jews and Christians claim exclusive notions of Truth. All that God really
requires from all believers are acknowledgement and gratitude, not an insis-
tence that theirs is the only route to salvation. God pardons as well as guides
whom He wills. Such arrogance can only lead diverse societies into animosity,
tension, mutual distrust and worse. And the only real testimony to humanity’s
gratitude is to be found in doing righteous deeds, which includes caring for
our fellow citizens and all people, no matter who they are or what they believe.
It is only our actions, not theological rectitude, which will earn us the reward
of our Sustainer—the very point on which this passage concludes.
There is a second story of the cow in this passage. God asks for the sacrifice
of a cow. But the community comes back again and again to Moses demanding
more and more specifics of the kind of cow to be offered. It is a case of religious
nitpicking run riot, a genuine human perversity. A duty it would have been
easy to fulfil if common sense had prevailed at the outset becomes almost
impossible by seeking ever more technical conditions. The moral I see here is:
beware of the legalistic mindset in operating religion. Human beings delight
in the niceties of fine distinctions, dancing angels on the heads of pins without
noticing how easily they are losing the needle of living faith in the haystack of
religious ritual and custom. I find plenty of evidence of this among Muslims
today, with the endless desire for a fatwa on this, a fatwa on that. They place
their confidence in a legalistic mindset that is often as out of touch with com-
mon sense as it is unfamiliar with the complexities of the contemporary
world.
While two incidents of the cow provide the name of this entire sura—Al-
Baqara, The Cow—there are plenty of other examples of human perversity in
the face of revelation. Prophets have had to struggle with the doubts, derision
and dissatisfactions of their people. There are people who will not believe until
they see God with their own eyes. There are unlettered folk with no real knowl-
edge of Scripture who follow ‘only wishful fancies and mere conjectures’. There
are those who write Scripture with their own hands and claim ‘This is from
God’. There are those who refuse to see the continuity and confirmation of
their own faith in new revelation, even though it brings the same glad tidings
and enjoins the same duties. There are those who insist heaven is only for
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people who follow their exclusive brand of religion. ‘The Jews say: “The Chris-
tians have no valid ground for their beliefs”; and the Christians say: “The Jews
have no valid ground for their beliefs.” Yet both recite the Book. The ignorant
repeat their statements.’ The litany of failings includes those who deny access
to places of worship and destroy them. After all the cautionary examples of the
multiple ways humanity has found to distort, pervert and corrupt God’s guid-
ance, there is a clear conclusion: ‘Those are people who have passed away. They
have earned their reward and yours is that which you earn. You will not be held
responsible for what they did.’ Potentially we can always restart with a clean
slate, rather than continue the animosities and failings that deformed history.
We do not have to inherit the errors of our forefathers. This is where it is so
essential to keep the Qur’an’s simultaneous past, present and future, its overlap-
ping multiple frames of reference in mind.
The problem, however, is how readily human frailty manages to recreate the
failings of the past again and again, to dedicate itself to the preservation of
tradition by doing what previous generations did.
I find this long and complicated passage immensely hopeful. It is a timeless
summons to an open, tolerant approach not just to Islam but to living with
diversity and difference in a multifaith society. It summons us all to the better
angels of our nature. It reminds us of the essential religious truth: ‘To God
belong the East and the West: Wherever you turn, there is the face of God. For
God is all-Encompassing, all-Knowing.’ It is not we humans who own and pos-
sess religion for our own purposes. Religion is how God consciousness and
God’s guidance can aid us in finding a better way of living in a world that is
multifaceted, a world of wonderful diversity. I think it should be read in con-
junction with the Book of Micah chapter 6, verse 8 in the Bible, which reads:
‘He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require
of thee, but to do justly; and to love mercy; and to walk in humility with thy
God.’ There is a way to transcend our differences for the sake of doing what is
right in the eyes of God.
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AL-BAQARA
A ‘MIDDLE COMMUNITY’
142. Foolish people will say: ‘What turned them away from the direction of prayer they
once followed?’ Say: God is the east and west: He guides whomsoever He wills onto
a straight path.
143. Thus, We have appointed you a community of the middle way, so that you might
bear witness to humankind, and that the Messenger might be a witness to you;
and We did not appoint the direction of prayer which you once followed, except to
distinguish he who follows the Messenger from he who turns on his heels. Indeed it
was a grave matter, except to those whom God has guided. But God would not al-
low your earlier faith to have been in vain. Towards mankind, God is All-Caring,
Compassionate to each.
144. We see you turning your face for guidance to the heavens. So, now We will turn you
in a direction of prayer that will please you. Turn your face in the direction of the
Sacred Mosque: Wherever you may be, turn your faces in that direction. Those who
have been given the Book know well that that is the truth from their Lord. God is
not unaware of what they do.
145. Yet were you to bring to those that have been given the Book every kind of manifest
proof, they would not follow your direction; nor will you follow their direction; nor
indeed do some follow each other’s direction. Were you to follow their whims, after
having received knowledge, you would then be truly unjust.
146. Those to whom We brought the Book know this as well as they know their own
children; but some of them knowingly suppress the truth.
147. This is the Truth from your Lord: be not among those who doubt.
148. For every community there is a direction of their own, so hasten to do good deeds.
Wherever you may be, God will ultimately gather you in. God has power over all
things.
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149. From wherever you come forth, turn your face in the direction of the sacred Mosque;
that is indeed the truth from your Lord. And God is not unmindful of what
you do.
150. From wherever you come forth, turn your face in the direction of the Sacred Mosque;
and wherever you may be, turn your face towards it: so that people can have no ar-
gument against you, except those among them that are unfair; so fear them not, but
fear Me; that I may complete My bounty upon you, and that you may be guided
aright.
151. Even as We have sent among you a Messenger of your own, who recites to you Our
revelations and purifies you, and instructing you in Scripture and Wisdom, and
teaches you that which you knew not.
152. So remember Me and I will remember you; and give thanks to Me, and deny
Me not.
We move immediately from a passage with the overarching moral that the
purpose of all religion is always the same, to have faith and do good deeds, to
one that distinguishes and differentiates. This passage provides the definition
of Muslims as a distinct community, a community defined by a particular
observance: turning towards Mecca when offering prayer. While this will dif-
ferentiate the Muslim community, it does not alter nor should it detract from
the qualitative characteristics this community must embody in its internal
operations and external relations. They are to be a community of the mid-
dle way.
Every community has its own traditions and rituals; their purpose is to sum-
mon us to ‘vie…with one another in doing good works’. Our differences, far
from setting us at odds, should encourage us to work together. How we live is
what will be judged, and for which everyone will be individually accountable,
in the Hereafter. The conjunction of setting this eternal and universal challenge
in the midst of a passage which creates the very difference which will distin-
guish Muslims from other communities is characteristic of the style of the
Qur’an, and I think highly significant. This new difference is declared follow-
ing all the warnings and cautionary examples in the previous passage. Also, it
refers us back to the interplay of the ideas of sundering and spreading corrup-
tion on earth being the actions of ‘those who are losers’ discussed previously.
The difference is declared after a clear context of already established ideas is
presented.
Up to the point of the revelation of this verse, Muslims faced towards Jeru-
salem during prayer. When in Mecca, and during the first sixteen months of
his stay in Medina, the Prophet prayed facing Jerusalem. Now, he is instructed
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AL-BAQARA: A ‘MIDDLE COMMUNITY’
to turn towards the Kaaba, the ‘inviolable place of worship’, the building whose
foundations were laid and purified by Abraham together with Ishmael, whose
story is included in the preceding passage. This change will unite all subsequent
generations of Muslims by providing them with a common focus, and gives
Islam a unique distinguishing feature from other monotheistic faiths.
The ‘foolish’ amongst the Jews and Christians of Medina mock this change.
The Prophet has to explain the change from Jerusalem to Mecca not just to
the Jews and Christians but also to his own community. They are reassured
that their previous devotions were not in vain, they were not praying in error
or invalidly. The Qur’an reminds us that faith involves much more than simply
which direction one faces during prayer. It has symbolic significance, but it is
not the essence of faith: ‘God is is the east and the west’ (v.142); or, as we read
later on, ‘true piety does not consist in turning your faces towards the east or
the west’ (2:177). The real spirit of Islam lies elsewhere.
The true definition of Muslim society is a qualitative one: it must be ‘the
middle community’, ‘a community of the middle way’. The word used here is
wasat, which signifies the middle part of anything. It is the point distant from
either extreme, the best part of everything. While the translations ‘middle
community’ and ‘a community of the middle way’ can be used interchangeably,
I prefer ‘a community of the middle way’. To me it infers and recalls the idea
of the ‘straight path’, which is mentioned in the first verse of this passage. Like
the ‘straight path’, the concept we discussed in al-Fatiha, ‘the community of
the middle way’ is a qualitative conceptual tool. It is a means of orienting and
evaluating how society is organised and operating. It is a means of questioning
whether society is on the right course, doing what is right, not just in the form
of ritual observance but across the whole spectrum of thought and action. Thus
the ummat wasat, the community of the middle way, signifies a just, equitable,
balanced, moderate people, who shun extremism of all types. It is by their
moderation that the Muslim community should become an example, a ‘wit-
ness’, to others—just as the Prophet Muhammad himself is a model of modesty
and fair dealing for Muslims.
It seems clear to me that, while those who follow the revelation given to
Muhammad will turn towards Mecca in prayer, the continued existence of
other religious communities is implied once again: ‘For every community there
is a direction of their own, so hasten to do good deeds.’ Doing differently
should not be made into a distraction from the true purpose of faith. Doing
differently is not meant to sunder what has been joined. All communities in
all their diversity ultimately are interconnected and interrelated by being cre-
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ations of God and by the fact all will return to God for judgement in the Here-
after. Then it will not be the distinction of their direction of prayer that counts
but their good deeds.
Muslims have generally seen the notion of the ‘middle community’ in geo-
graphical terms: Muslim societies have occupied the middle belt of the globe,
stretching from Morocco to Indonesia. But that I think is incidental. Or, if
you will, it is the historic product of empire building. Anyway, Muslims now
live all over the planet. Some commentators, like Sayyid Qutb, have suggested
that the notion of the ‘middle community’ is a device for judging others: ‘the
middle-of-the-road community’, he writes, ‘stands witness against other
nations’, ‘it weighs up their values, standards, traditions, concepts and objec-
tives, judging them either true or false’ [8]. This idea, with its intrinsic sense
of moral superiority is, I think, totally misplaced. The very terminology used
shows it is falling into the pitfalls so clearly set out in the previous passage. The
community of the middle way following the straight path should be making
judgements on how well, or how badly, Muslims themselves fulfil their values,
standards, traditions, concepts and objectives. Rather than assuming the right
to judge others it should, ideally, be offering constructive engagement to all
other communities to resolve the predicaments of the human condition, to
make the world a better place for everyone, irrespective of what they believe.
Towards other faiths, as we have seen, the Qur’an commends and authorises,
avoiding argument on imponderables of absolute truth and operating mutual
respect, tolerance and forbearance. And, as the Qur’an repeatedly states, indi-
viduals as well as communities can only stand witness for their own actions.
It is important, in my opinion, to emphasise that the Qur’an is not suggest-
ing that Muslims are the middle community; rather, it is pointing out that
Muslims can and should always strive to become a community of the middle
way. As such, the notion of the ‘middle community’ is primarily a tool of self-
reflection. It implies that a balance must be sought between our physical and
spiritual needs, the demands of the body and the demands of the soul. Both
need equal nourishment. In the Qur’anic scheme, there is no inherent conflict
between spirit and the flesh, the desire for sexual fulfilment or good food and
the quest for spiritual satisfaction. We cannot neglect either; but also we can-
not become obsessed with one or the other. Nor are wealth and possessions in
and of themselves to be shunned, but they are to be spent. Whatever we do,
whatever we seek, whatever we accumulate can be purified by moderation and
‘spending’, that is operating a distributive inclusive outlook in all aspects of life
in an environment open, tolerant and welcoming to all. This much is widely
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AL-BAQARA: A ‘MIDDLE COMMUNITY’
acknowledged by Muslim scholars. But beyond that, the notion of a ‘middle

community’ has to be translated as an all-embracing idea touching all aspects
of our life and thought. It suggests moderation in our approach to religion,
which should not become the sole marker of our identity, a totalitarian obses-
sion that undermines common human values, and eventually leads to self-
destruction. It points towards a balanced approach to reason and revelation,
science and values, ethics and morality. It argues for a more respectful and
humble approach to nature, holding ourselves responsible and accountable as
trustees, people who look after and preserve the environment for future genera-
tions. It demands fair-play, equity and justice in our economic activity and
moderation in our politics.
The message of the Qur’an is one thing; how Muslims actually behave in
real life, and how Muslim societies shape and manage themselves, is quite
another. When I look around the Muslim world, I see not ‘a community of
the middle way’ but communities of extremes—of obnoxious, ostentatious
wealth in the midst of abject poverty, of religious zealots and self-righteous
chauvinists, of despots and demagogues. I see societies profoundly confused
about how and in what way to be Muslim, how to express and fulfil their reli-
gious identity in the complexities of the modern world. I see communities
vacillating uncertainly between a truncated and fossilised tradition and vague
imaginings about how to rekindle and recapture the glories of their history.
I see communities of debate and concern offering plans for modernisation,
reform and revolution that turn out to be cul-de-sacs that do little or nothing
to address the real problems, the dire conditions in which so many Muslims
live. And I see those who peddle the panacea of violence, the quick fix of the
gun and bomb, the panic politics of animosity and destruction of supposed
enemies, as if that is any answer to the predicament of making a better, more
peaceful and sustainable world. These are not communities displaying the
quality and character they should derive from turning towards the Kaaba in
prayer. And it is definitely not integrated and coherent as a community that
‘races to do good deeds’ (v.148).
Instead of heeding the warnings provided in the Qur’an, Muslims in their
history and their present seem to be dedicated to repeating as many of the
mistakes it enumerates as possible. They are sundered, divided and factional
within, as much as they cherish a sense of superiority over other societies that
they lack within themselves; not racing to do good deeds, but chasing all forms
of human frailty and perversity with steadfast determination.
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AL-BAQARA
VIRTUOUS PEOPLE
153. O you who believe! Seek help in steadfast patience and prayer; for God is with those
who are patient.
154. And say not of those who are slain in God’s cause: ‘They are dead.’ Nay, they are
alive, though you perceive it not.
155. Surely, we shall test you with something of fear and hunger, with loss of wealth, lives
and crops, but give glad tidings to those who are patient,
156. Who say, when afflicted with calamity: ‘To God we belong, and to Him we shall
return.’
157. Upon them rest blessings from God, and Mercy, and it is they, they who are rightly
guided.
158. Behold, al-Safa and al-Marwa are among the symbols of God. Whosoever makes
the Pilgrimage to the Sacred House in the Season or at other times, it is no fault
in him to circumambulate them; whoso volunteers in piety God is All-grateful,
All-knowing.
159. Those who conceal the clear Signs and the guidance We have sent down, after We
have made it clear for the people in the Book, on them shall be God’s curse, and all
who curse shall curse them,
160. Except for those who repent and reform their conduct and proclaim their faith.
These I shall forgive. And I am All-Forgiving, Compassionate to each.
161. Those who disbelieve, and die while they are disbelievers; on them is God’s curse,
and the curse of angels, and of all humankind;
162. And under that curse they shall abide eternally. Their penalty will not be light-
ened, nor will they be granted respite.
163. Your God is One God. There is no god but He, Merciful to all, Compassionate
to each.
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164. Behold! in the creation of the heavens and the earth; in the cycle of the night and
the day; in ships that plough the ocean for the profit of mankind; in the rain which
God sends down from the skies, giving life to earth that is dead; and dispersing all
manner of creatures; in the change of the winds, and the clouds which run their
course between sky and earth: In these are signs for people who reflect.
165. And yet there are people who choose to believe in beings that allegedly rival God,
loving them as [only] God should be loved: whereas those who have attained to
faith love God more than all else. If they who are bent on evildoing could but see—
as see they will when they are made to suffer—that all might belongs to God alone,
and that God is terrible in punishment!
166. When those that were followed disown their followers, and they see the torment,
and their cords are cut asunder,
167. The followers will say: ‘If only we could have another chance, we would disown
them as they have disowned us.’ Thus will God show them their deeds as deepest
remorse. Nor will they ever leave the Fire.
168. O humankind, eat of what is on earth: all is lawful and good for you. Do not follow
the footsteps of Satan, for he is to your manifest enemy.
169. He merely commands you to commit evil and debauchery, and to speak about God
that of which you have no knowledge.
170. When it is said to them: ‘Follow what God has revealed’ they answer: ‘Nay, we
shall follow [only] that which we found our forefathers believing in and doing.’
How so, even though their ancestors understood nothing, nor were rightly guided?
171. The likeness of those who disbelieve is the beast which hears the shepherd’s cry, and
hears in it nothing but the sound of a voice and a call. Deaf are they, and dumb,
and blind: for they do not use their reason.
172. O ye who believe! Eat of the good things We have provided for you, and give thanks
to God, if it is Him you truly worship.
173. He has only forbidden you carrion, and blood, flesh of pig, and whatever has been
consecrated to other than God. But if one is forced by necessity, without wilful dis-
obedience, nor transgressing due limits, no sin shall be upon him. God is All-For-
giving, Compassionate to each.
174. Those who suppress what God has revealed of the Book, and purchase a small gain
therewith, those shall eat only fire in their bellies. God shall not speak to them on
the Day of Resurrection, nor shall He cleanse them. Theirs will be a painful doom.
175. It is they who take error in exchange for guidance, and suffering in exchange for
forgiveness: yet how little do they seem to fear the fire!
176. That is because God has sent down the Book with the Truth, but those who differ
regarding the Book are sunk deep in discord.
177. Virtue does not demand of you to turn your faces to the east or to the west. Virtue
rather is: he who believes in God and the Last Day, the Angels, the Book, and
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AL-BAQARA: VIRTUOUS PEOPLE
the Messengers; and spends his substance, however cherished, on kin, orphans, the
needy, the traveller, beggars, and for freeing human beings from bondage; who is
constant in prayer, and pays the purifying dues; who fulfils the contracts they have
made; and endures with fortitude misfortune, hardship and peril. These are the
true believers. These are truly pious.
In what does virtue reside? How should people become and demonstrate
that they are indeed ‘a community of the middle way’? In what characteristics
should their balance between extremes be evident? This passage juxtaposes
two virtues that hold the key.
These verses ask people who have attained to faith to seek aid in patience
and prayer when faced with adversity. There are many people in this world who
are tested by adversity, just as the Muslims in Medina were. In our time, the
world is only too familiar with refugees who have been driven from their
homes, have had to flee leaving behind all their possessions, and consequently
know danger, hunger and the loss of the fruits of their labour. A large propor-
tion of such refugees today are Muslims.
To those who are patient in adversity the Qur’an gives ‘glad tidings’. Is this
evidence of a religious tradition that offers only fatalism? The question has
always been posed and not just to Islam. But I think the question misses, or
rather misconstrues, the significance of the patience to be found in prayer. In
the face of adversity the first necessity is the fortitude to endure rather than
succumb, and this, it seems to me, is exactly the aid to be derived from patience
and prayer. The patience summoned is the inner strength and resolve to face
down the adversities of one’s situation. Despite their adversities the migrants
to Medina were not passive and fatalistic, they were engaged in founding a new
kind of society whose glad tidings were the possibility of living in a more just,
equitable and righteous way. They are tested to the limit but faith is fortitude
and hope.
The Qur’an provides an example of patience and perseverance by referring
to the story of Hager, wife of Prophet Abraham. Hager was left abandoned
with her infant son Ishmael in the desert, between two small hills, known as
Safa and Marwah, located a few hundred metres from what became the site of
the Kaaba in Mecca, the direction to which all Muslims were told to turn in
prayer that was discussed in the previous passage. Dehydrated and distressed,
fearing for the life of her child, Hagar ran to and fro between the two hills
looking for water. She kept searching and praying against all the odds. Her
search and reliance on God was finally rewarded when a fresh-water spring
appeared in the desert. The spring is known as the well of Zamzam, it still exists
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today, adjacent to the Kaaba. This example of patience and prayer in adversity
has been incorporated into the experience of Muslims down the years. Pilgrims
to Mecca relive Hagar’s search by running between Safa and Marwah, when
they perform the hajj (pilgrimage), or umra (lesser pilgrimage). The hills, now
a long colonnaded building, are within the precincts of the Grand Mosque in
Mecca. And pilgrims also collect water from the well of Zamzam, to take home
as a souvenir of their experience in Mecca.
But then we come to the juxtaposition of another essential virtue necessary
to ‘a community of the middle way’. I would suggest that the transition from
patience and prayer to the virtue of the love of knowledge in verse 164 is cru-
cial to realising how the fortitude and endurance derived from faith becomes
an active, hopeful and liberating aid—and something quite distinct from and
with no connection to fatalism. It is a consistent feature of the Qur’an to use
this technique to provide food for thought by making a relationship between
attributes and virtues we might think about in separate contexts but which we
need to understand as integral parts of following the right path.
The middle community consists of people ‘who use their reason’ to study
the natural world and think about the physical and material laws of the uni-
verse. Indeed, they even reflect on the ingenuity we as human beings are capa-
ble of (‘the ships that speed through the sea’). By linking the practice of virtue
to the pursuit of knowledge, the Qur’an makes it clear that uninformed virtue
has little validity. There is no real virtue in being humble and ignorant. Real
virtue is humility that comes from knowledge. So, ultimately, moral excellence,
the shine on basic human virtues, is acquired through knowledge and
learning.
Indeed, ignorance can still lead a virtuous community to downfall. The ‘men
who take for worship others beside God’ (v.165) are not just idol worshippers
in the Prophet’s Medina. They are also those, I would argue, who have idolised
their political leaders, religious scholars, and the ways of their forefathers
(v.170). These are the people referred to in the next two verses (166–7) as
‘those who are followed’ and are ‘falsely adored’.
This, I think, is of crucial importance for our time. Blind imitation (techni-
cally known as taqlid) of religious scholars of yesteryear and today is the norm
in contemporary Muslim societies. A great deal of Islamic law derives from
taqlid; and a great deal of what religious scholars tell Muslim societies to do
or not to do is based on it. Indeed, as Mohammad Asad points out in his com-
mentary on the Qur’an, innumerable ‘legal’ injunctions which have little bear-
ing on the words of the Qur’an, prohibitions in excess of what the Qur’an says,
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false ‘attribution of religious validity to customs sanctioned by nothing but

ancient usage’ and absurd fatwas have been issued ‘through subjective methods
of deduction and then put forward as “God’s ordinances”’ [9].
There is no virtue in such blind imitation; and the Qur’an, as we read later,
categorically denounces it: ‘Do not follow blindly what you do not know to
be true’ (17:36). Instead, each believer is required to ‘use reason’, pursue knowl-
edge in its widest sense, and gain the ability for discernment on moral and
religious issues. As this passage makes clear, the accountability on the Day of
Judgement is individual: we will be asked what we have done, not whom we
followed. Thus, the followers should look not ‘for one more chance in life’ but
towards their own critical faculties.
Critical acumen also comes into play in the discussion of ‘what is lawful and
good on earth’. We have already considered that the human condition is being
khalifah, trustees, with a right to utilise the fruits of the earth. In this passage
the recurrent reference to ‘eat’, it seems to me, needs to be considered in the
wider sense of how we utilise the bounty of the earth that grows for us or is
manufactured by human hands. The believers are told not to consume carrion,
blood, swine, and that which has been offered as sacrifice to idols (v.173). But
the prohibitions here do not only apply to food; and the prohibition itself is
conditional. In the case of an emergency or necessity, what is unlawful becomes
lawful. The reverse is also true: lawful can become unlawful in certain condi-
tions, if, for example, it is acquired through unlawful means, as we learn later
(5:63). The term translated as ‘lawful’ is halal, which also signifies a praisewor-
thy thing or action; the opposite term is haram, forbidden, or blameworthy.
These terms have wide-ranging significance that is seldom realised.
Both have permanent and contextual aspects. There are certain things, such
as murder, cheating, backbiting, which will always be forbidden. But beyond
that, these concepts connect ends and means; for something to be halal it has
to be inherently good and acquired through good means. So the fruits of theft,
robbery, cheating, scam, bribery, nepotism, money laundering, monopoly,
market manipulation and similar means are also haram. There is a perceptive
line in the brilliant Pakistani film In the Name of God [10] where a liberal
scholar (played by Nasiruddin Shah) tells a court that Muslims are ‘constantly
looking for halal meat shops with haram money in their wallets’.
The ‘good’ is defined in terms of ‘sustenance’: only if it sustains not just our
bodies but all that which surrounds us can it be consumed. As such, lawful
things themselves may not necessarily be good: a ‘halal’ burger may be dripping
in fat and a product of unethical farming practices. Ostensibly, the burger is
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lawful; but given the fact that it is bad for one’s health, and injurious to the
animals as well as possibly the people who work in the supply chain that deliver
it to the consumer, it ought to be unlawful. The injunction to eat of the good
things is not limited: it is directed against the use of things which are injurious
to physical, mental, social, cultural and environmental health, even though
they may not be explicitly forbidden.
Things change. What is ‘good on earth’ in one particular context may not
be so good in another context. As such, good is not defined once and for all.
It has to be constantly sought, re-established from context to context, through
critical engagement. This is one of the most notable virtues of ‘a community
of the middle way’: it adjusts to change, younger generations constantly ques-
tion their fathers and forefathers, as society itself and our moral consciousness
with it evolves and our understanding of what classifies as good changes.
Goodness, therefore, is not a manifestation of outward forms: it ‘does not
consist in turning your face towards East or West’. The Qur’an stresses the
principle that mere compliance with rituals, or external forms such as beard
or dress, does not fulfil the requirements of piety. Beyond belief, goodness is
based on certain virtues: on patience (those ‘who are steadfast in misfortune,
adversity and times of danger’), on integrity (‘who keep pledges whenever they
make them’) and on gratitude (‘who keep up the prayer’).
But goodness also needs to be translated into action. It manifests itself in
the constant struggle for equity and social justice amongst the believers. The
simplest way for an individual to seek social justice is to spend one’s substance
in ‘God’s cause’. We have in previous passages discussed how the ‘straight path’
as well as the ‘community of the middle way’ have to be understood as a dis-
tributive outlook, one that spends and uses, manages the trust it succeeds to.
In this passage these concepts are given specific reference by enumerating the
people one should help unconditionally: ‘to their relatives, to orphans, the
needy, travellers and beggars, and to liberate those in bondage’. ‘Travellers’, or
‘wayfarers’, refers to displaced people: those who due to circumstances beyond
their control have been forced to move from their homes, are unable—tem-
porarily or permanently—to return, and face hardship. It includes refugees,
political exiles, asylum seekers and economic migrants. In the Prophet’s Med-
ina, those in ‘bondage’ were clearly slaves. The Qur’anic injunction regarding
slavery is simple: ‘liberate those in bondage’, thus eventually leading to the
abolition of slavery. Historically, Muslims did not take this injunction to its
logical conclusion. Today, however, those in ‘bondage’ would include those
trapped in poverty, people working for unsustainable wages, child labour and
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victims of trafficking. Clearly, ‘a community of the middle way’ which is con-

stantly adapting its understanding cannot tolerate such injustices. And it seems
clear in the context of this passage that ‘spends its substance’ does not merely
refer to wealth in the form of money, the most obvious connotation. One’s
substance also includes the intellectual and creative abilities to devise the
means to prevent injustice and want occurring.
In view of the contemporary significance attached to the idea of those ‘slain
in God’s cause’, we also need to consider this verse in its historic context, as
well as the conceptual context of following the straight path as a community
of the middle way. In one sense this verse is clearly contextual. The fledgling
Muslim community of Medina was engaged in a life and death struggle for
survival with the larger and more powerful armies of Mecca. To those who
have lost loved ones, the Qur’an offers consolation and encouragement, just
as it does in the case of those who are tested by fear, hunger, loss of wealth and
crops. There is however another, more extensive, sense in which ‘God’s cause’
must be understood. All who strive and do good deeds, the kind enumerated
at the end of this passage, are engaged in God’s cause. All who are righteous
and do righteous deeds receive the promise of eternal life when they return to
God on the Day of Judgement. The idea that ‘God’s cause’ is literally a sanction
for religious conflict, or acts of murder and mayhem, can have no religious
warrant. It is a literalism entirely at odds with all that this passage says, indeed
the entire message of the Qur’an.
When I think about this passage I cannot fail to call to mind a wonderful
saying of Prophet Muhammad, which captures its essence and spirit. The saying
is: pray and tie your camel. Prayer is not evidence of fatalism when it is the first
step to using one’s reason and finding just and practical solutions to problems.
What we are asked to do is both, not either/or.
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LAW OF EQUITY
178. O believers, just retribution is ordained for you in cases of murder: the free for the
free, the slave for the slave, the woman for the woman. But if a brother is forgiven
by another regarding what is ordained and seemly deliverance of payment made,
this is an act of leniency from your Lord. Whoever aggresses after this will have a
painful doom.
179. For the law of just retribution saves lives, O you who are possessed of understand-
ing; so that you might remain conscious of God.
180. It is ordained upon you, when death approaches any of you, leaving wealth behind
to make a will in favour of parents and close relatives, in accordance with what is
fair. This is incumbent on the God fearing.
181. If anyone changes the bequest after hearing it, sin shall fall upon those who alter it.
For God is All-hearing, All-knowing.
182. But if anyone who suspects unfairness or wrongdoing on the part of a testator, and
makes peace among them, no sin shall fall upon him. God is All-forgiving, Compas-
sionate to each.
In practical terms, how does a community of the middle way operate? We

have seen the consistent theme of the need to put religion into practice, to
make it a way of life that amends the ills of society and that transcends the dif-
ferences between and within communities. This passage further extends one
of the essential hallmarks of the Qur’an’s guidance: it sets out the norms of
social life. What we learn here is that living rightly depends upon operating
the law of equity, of fairness, of just and appropriate action and reaction.
Once again we need to keep in mind that the Qur’an is speaking to the
problems of Arabian society at the time of the Prophet Muhammad, as well as
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establishing normative principles for the operation of law throughout time.

The test for those who aspire to become a middle community is to distinguish
between the circumstantial, that which is specific to a particular time and
place, and the general principle, which will always be applicable but which
needs to find appropriate form to serve the needs of another time and place.
Arabia during the days of Prophet Muhammad was a tribal society based
on the notion that the sons of a clan were brothers who shared the same
blood. Internecine war, pillaging and looting of caravans were widespread.
Revenge and retaliation were common themes: minor tribal incidents could
lead to long drawn out feuds between tribes. The ‘War of Basus’ began when
a camel accidentally trespassed into the pastures of a neighbouring tribe and
lasted for decades. In certain cases, tribes took excessive revenge: when they
lost a person of noble descent, for example, they would kill many people,
besides the murderer, in retaliation. Captives, both men and women, were
mutilated. Famine and scarcity were annual occurrences, so certain foods were
reserved for men which could not be taken by women. Women were bartered;
and daughters were seen as an economic burden, leading to the practice of
female infanticide.
The realities of tribal society are the particular social circumstances that
form the backdrop to these verses. The Qur’an is concerned here, I think, with
establishing the boundaries of fairness and equality. The Qur’an insists on
absolute and total respect for human life: as emphasised in 5:45, 6:151, 17:33
and 25:68. It is not surprising, then, that the Holy Text sees murder, denying
or ending someone’s life, as a cardinal sin. Murder has to be punished; but
there are boundaries within which justice is to be sought.
The first point I would make is that the commonalities between different
religions evident in this most basic of all questions—the sanctity of human life
and the just and equitable response to murder, the most cardinal of sins—are
demonstration of exactly the reality and approach the Qur’an required us to
be mindful of in earlier passages. Whatever distinctions the Qur’an makes in
the specific principles it lays down for Muslims should never blinker us to the
common principles to be found in different religious traditions. We do not
stand as far apart from each other as chauvinists of any and all religions or ethi-
cal systems would sometimes have us believe.
The verse ‘the free for a free’ (178) can, of course, be read literally. And it
leads down a familiar cul-de-sac, the same that follows from taking ‘an eye for
an eye’, when taken to signify only what those words literally express. But
uncritical literalism, the kind that does not reason with the specific and the
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universal, would be a gross error. Here, as in so many other places in the

Qur’an, knowing the social context in which the verses were revealed and
deconstructing the key words used is crucial. The term generally translated as
‘retaliation’ is qisas. It includes the idea of equality or just measure; this is why
Yusuf Ali translates it as ‘law of equality’ and Mohammad Asad renders it as
‘just retribution’, which I have followed. There are two principles of equality
being advocated here. First, the law is to be applied equally to all: men, women,
free or not; the social status of the murderer or the victim makes no difference.
Second, punishment should be proportionate to the crime.
The Qur’an refers generally to ‘cases of murder’; it offers three specific out-
comes: just retribution, compensation and, given its frequent exhortations and
overall spirit, forgiveness. Not all murders are premeditated. There may be
circumstances which alleviate the guilt: murder could be provoked, or it could
be a result of temporary rage, or a result of an accident. In which case, com-
pensation may become the just course, and it has to be made in a ‘goodly man-
ner’ and fairness by taking full account of the situation of the accused.
These verses have moral import and universal implications; we can apply
the general principles to our own circumstances. The term ‘brother’ used here
to mean the victim’s tribal family could be interpreted to mean society in gen-
eral. Individual compensation may be financial, as suggested in these verses;
but social restitution could be a just prison sentence—penal systems not being
much in evidence in medieval Arabia. Indeed, it seems to me the principle of
financial compensation is an element worth considerably more thought in our
own time. The victim of murder is not only the individual life lost. Their entire
family suffers not merely traumatic loss of a loved one but also various kinds
of economic and social loss. The principle of just restitution involved in finan-
cial compensation acknowledges the needs of the other victims of the crime.
The life lost can never be restored, but the victimisation of those left behind
can not only be acknowledged but also addressed in practical ways.
The Qur’an seems to me to encourage one to think more broadly and pro-
foundly than is usually the case. The function of ‘just retribution’ is not revenge
but protection of society. Its words could not be more unequivocal: ‘The law
of just retribution saves lives.’ Clearly, this has direct relevance to the historic
context of seventh-century Arabia, but also it has universal relevance. A society
that operates on the principle of just retribution, through a fair and effective
system of administering justice, concerned not only with punishment but
reform and restitution, nurtures its humane instincts. It is a society that reasons
with crime and the causes of crime.
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When it comes to punishment, society is cautioned not to transgress, not

to ‘exceed the limits’, but to stay within the boundaries specified by the law of
equity. Equity means acknowledging the obligation not just to consider degrees
of culpability in the crime but also obligation to all those victimised by the
crime. I would suggest that we get so bogged down in familiar arguments about
crime and punishment, the hoary old chestnuts of debate, that we miss some-
thing more obvious. We are ever ready to say that the Qur’an is applicable
through all time and circumstances—then fail to see how it can always refresh
our understanding and way of thinking about problems. We fall into compla-
cency, instead of continually questioning whether our thinking has gone as far
and realised as much as the Qur’an suggests.
The breadth of meaning and application of the law of equity is made clear
in the logical progression of this passage. Once again we have an instance of
the juxtaposition and conjunction of seemingly dissimilar instances where a
common principle applies. We move from ‘just retribution’ to ‘just distribu-
tion’ in the verses which deal with inheritance.
The Qur’an asks that a proper will be made in good time, so that confusion
and feud may not follow after one’s death. The will, we learn later, has to have
two witnesses (5:106). The end product has to be respected by all concerned
and cannot be altered; and the trust must be discharged with due diligence.
However, if the deceased has made a mistake, and a dispute results when some-
one corrects it, the matter is to be settled by peaceful negotiations.
The emphasis is not just on making a will but also on its content. The con-
cern is to achieve equity as the operation of the distributive principle we
encountered in previous passages. Wealth should not accumulate in fewer and
fewer hands; inheritance is a means of distributing wealth throughout society.
A reasonable amount has to be left to one’s parents and close relatives, particu-
larly those in dire circumstances. The rest is dispersed to one’s offspring accord-
ing to a formula specified in 4:11–12, which is usually read in conjunction
with 2:180–82.
Provision for parents is mentioned before all other ‘close relatives’, and it
seems to me to highlight a way of reading all the verses dealing with inheri-
tance; but most of all it informs our understanding of the central principle,
the law of equity. It is not merely a case of honouring one’s parents, but of rec-
ognising that in later life one’s parents may have greater difficulty in providing
for themselves. The principle of equity seeks to be proportionate and appropri-
ate to need.
In 4:11–12, we read that a son should have the equivalent of two daughters.
However, if there are only two daughters, then they should get two-thirds of
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the inheritance, and if there is one daughter she should get half of the inheri-
tance. There are other proportions for other members of the family. Let us see
what is happening here.
In the Arabia of the Prophet Muhammad, females were not entitled to any
inheritance. On the contrary, women were used as property to be bought and
sold or owned and inherited and assigned as payment for debts. Inheritance
was the sole preserve of those who wielded the sword; boys below puberty, the
infirm and the elderly could not inherit either. The Qur’an repeals all this and
establishes new rules. It insists that women have a right not just to inheritance
but also, by corollary, to property.
However, as is so often asked—and a vast deal is made of the point—why
should a daughter only get half as much as a son? The answer has nothing to
do with patriarchal attitudes in Arabian society at the time of the Prophet, or
in any society at any time for that matter. The Qur’an is instituting a reform,
but one that recognises human and social realities. Paradoxically, in terms of
inherited wealth, the system works in favour of women for a rather simple
reason. When a man marries, he takes financial responsibility for the whole
family as patriarchy and honour demanded, and Islamic reform endorsed; his
inheritance would be spent on all the family, wife and children included. When
a woman marries, according to the system the Qur’an introduces, her inherited
wealth remains solely her own property; her husband, or indeed her children,
had no rights over it. Or looked at from the other perspective, a woman could
expect to become part of a household where her immediate needs would be a
claim on and be met by her partner, unlike the social obligations expected of
men. Divorce or widowhood are also possibilities women might face, therefore
it is equitable that they should have their own independent resources to meet
their potential needs.
The proportions set out in the inheritance laws are thus designed to dis-
perse wealth and property throughout society to guard against need. Equity
does not mean that everyone gets the same; rather that distribution is based
on reasonable need according to actual circumstances. Indeed, the eradication
of need is a fundamental principle that recurs throughout the Qur’an, as we
have already seen. Here we have an instance of the consistency with which
general principles can be applied: the law of equity begins within the family,
with the provision we should make from the wealth and property we own for
our nearest and dearest, and then expands to embrace the whole of society,
the whole of humanity. It is worth noting that devising a means to calculate
the distribution of inheritance on the basis of social equity as outlined in the
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Qur’an led Al-Khwarizmi (c.780–850), the Persian mathematician, to develop

algebra [11].
The need to understand and distinguish the specific circumstances of Ara-
bian society at the time of the Prophet Muhammad was basic to the approach
of all the great scholars of Islamic history. However, times change, circum-
stances change and what we are required to do, surely, is to work out how the
law of equity should apply in our time. The rules and regulations that Muslims
regard as their tradition were formed in history and demand the application
of critical reasoning, not blind following. It is not only the case that in our time
gender roles are understood in different ways. The very nature of work as paid
employment is vastly different, as are the needs of providing a sustainable way
of life, therefore the law of equity has to be interpreted in a different way. If
both men and women work, and carry equal financial burdens, the law
demands that a daughter and a son get equal shares. Failure to admit such a
change would be to remain oblivious to the implications of the idea of balance.
A balance is something that shifts to ensure we remain within the boundaries
of the law of equity.
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AL-BAQARA
FASTING
183. O you who believe, the fast is ordained upon you, as it was ordained on those who
came before you, so that you might remain conscious of God;
184. (Fast) for a fixed number of days. But if any of you is ill, or on a journey, then a
number of other days. For those who cannot bear it, a penance: the feeding of a poor
person. And whoever does more good than he is bound to do does good unto himself
thereby; for to fast is to do good unto yourselves, if you but knew it.
185. It was the month of Ramadan in which the Qur’an was sent down as a guidance to
mankind and a self-evident proof of that guidance, and as the standard by which to
discern the true from the false. Those among you who witness it shall fast through-
out it; but he that is ill, or on a journey, then a number of other days. God wills that
you shall have ease, and does not will you to suffer hardship; but [He desires] that
you complete the number [of days required], and that you extol God for His having
guided you aright, and perhaps you will be thankful.
186. If My servants ask concerning Me, behold, I am near: I answer the prayer of every
suppliant when he prays to Me: Let them respond to Me and believe in Me, so that
they might follow the right way.
187. It is lawful for you, on the night of the fasts, to lie down with your wives. They are as
a garment to you and you are as a garment to them. God knows you used to cheat;
but He has turned His face towards you and forgiven you; so now go in and lie with
them, and seek what God has ordained for you, and eat and drink, until the white
streak of dawn can be distinguished from the black streak; then complete your fast
till the night appears. Do not lie with them in periods when you retire for devotion-
al prayers. These are the bounds set by God, do not infringe them. Thus does God
make clear His signs to mankind, so that they might remain conscious of Him.
129
188. Do not consume each other’s wealth in falsehood, nor argue the matter with judges,
in order to consume a portion of people’s wealth unjustly, knowing well what you
are doing.
189. They ask you concerning the new moons. Say: ‘They are times appointed for hu-
mankind, and for the Pilgrimage.’ It is not a virtue that you approach houses from
their backs. Virtue is to be pious. So approach houses from the front, and fear God
so that you may prosper.
As a religious institution, fasting is as universal as prayer. Jews fast on Yom

Kippur, the Day of Atonement, one of the holiest days in Judaism. Hindus fast
during certain times of the year, such as the Durganavami festival, to purify
the mind and the body. Christians observe Lent, a period of renunciation in
the run-up to Easter, and have been recommended by Jesus to fast (Matthew
6:16, 17). The monks of Mount Athos, being Greek Orthodox, fast up to 200
days in a year.
In Biblical times, fasting was a sign of mourning, sorrow, affliction, or
approaching danger. The Qur’an institutes fasting as a form of worship, as both
an individual and collective act, that has to be carried out for ‘a certain number
of days’. The Sacred Text emphasises the moral and spiritual aspects of fasting
and suggests that its purpose is to ‘learn self-restraint’ (v.183) by controlling
one’s natural desires. It is prescribed as one of the four main religious rituals,
along with daily prayer, payment of zakat (the obligatory poor tax) and hajj,
the pilgrimage to Mecca.
The fast begins ‘when the white streak of dawn can be distinguished from
the black streak’ (generally, about an hour and half before dawn) and continues
till sunset. During this time, one abstains not only from food but drink and
also sex, all kinds of disorderly, abusive and aggressive behaviour, and worldly
temptations and desires. The indefinite period in verse 184 becomes the defi-
nite duration of ‘the month of Ramadan’ in the next verse. But verse 184 pro-
vides us with an interesting hint that I think is lost in translation. Those who
cannot fast, because they are too ill or too old, are asked to feed and help the
poor instead. But if they can do much more than that, of their own free will,
it is better for them.
Fasting involves hardship. The word used for doing ‘much more’ is tatawwu,
which has the connotation of spontaneously doing good. It also means acting
with effort. These two ideas are also connected with fasting itself: it is both an
instinctively good act and one that requires effort. The last part of the verse,
‘And whoever does more good than he is bound to do does good unto himself
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AL-BAQARA: FASTING
thereby; for to fast is to do good unto yourselves, if you but knew it’ seems to
acknowledge the fact that fasting requires serious effort. I think the idea of
effort in all forms of Muslim worship is crucial. It suggests that as individuals
and communities Muslims should inculcate the notion that serious effort is
essential for genuine spiritual attainment.
Given all the physical hardship and effort required to fast, there are excep-
tions. People on medication or those travelling can fast an equal number of
days when they have recovered or their journeys have ended. Those with pro-
longed afflictions, the disabled, the elderly, pregnant women and breast-feeding
mothers, don’t have to fast at all. They attain their spiritual benefits by putting
in real effort in what they do as a substitute.
The hardship of fasting, the effort required to refrain from fulfilling the
natural desires to eat and drink and suppress numerous other temptations, are
undertaken for a higher thirst: the desire to be near God. The effort is recip-
rocated; and God replies: ‘behold, I am near’. He responds, He says, to ‘the
prayer of every suppliant’, everyone who puts in an effort to fast. It is interest-
ing to note that ‘prayer’ here does not refer to prayer in general about health,
wealth and material happiness. Of course, God listens to prayers for worldly
and temporal benefits, not just from believers but also unbelievers, righteous
people as well as the transgressors, and, as we are told elsewhere in the Qur’an,
He answers ‘if He pleases’ (6:41; 10:22–3, 17:67). The prayer here, a spontane-
ous outcome of fasting, is very specific: it is about following ‘the right way’
towards God. And the answer comes in the form of spiritual fulfilment by
attaining nearness to God.
After fasting was established as a religious injunction, many Muslims in the
Prophet’s Medina thought it was illegal to have sex with their spouses during
the month of Ramadan, even at night. This involved additional hardship; and
the verse, ‘God wills that you shall have ease, and does not will you to suffer
hardship’, refers to the practice of early Muslims who avoided sex for a whole
month. The Qur’an equates sex with hunger and thirst as natural desires, as we
shall discover in chapter 45. What applies to eating and drinking after the daily
fast is over also applies to sex. There is also the idea of balance here: that the
spiritual quest should not be at the expense of physical self. The body and soul
need to be in harmony to attain closeness to God.
The idea of mutual balance is continued in the metaphor of ‘garments’ used
to describe the relationship between husbands and wives (v.187). Just as gar-
ments protect one’s body, so spouses protect each other. Just as garments give
comfort to the body, so husbands and wives are a source of comfort for each
131
other. Just as garments decorate and adorn the body, so the married couple
embellish each other, the weakness of one is made up by the strength of the
other in a spirit of mutual support. What could be more beautiful in a relation-
ship than that?
It was the practice of Prophet Muhammad on the last ten days of Ramadan
to stay in his mosque, spending day and night in meditation and reflection.
He advised his followers to do the same. These are the ‘devotional prayers’
alluded to in verse 187. This practice is not an obligation; but many Muslims
voluntarily undertake the exercise.
The Qur’an prescribes fasting during Ramadan for a rather special reason:
it is the month when the Qur’an itself was first revealed. The first verses of the
Qur’an, ‘Read in the name of your Lord…’ (96:1–5), were revealed on 27
Ramadan 611. Ramadan thus, in Muslim thought, has an intimate connection
with God. It is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, which begins with the
hijra or migration of Prophet Muhammad from Mecca to Medina during 622.
The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar: ‘they ask thee concerning the New
Moons. Say: They are times appointed for mankind’ (v.189). As the lunar year
is around eleven days shorter than the solar year, the months drift with respect
to seasons. Over the cycle of 32.5 years there is a balance: fasting can be expe-
rienced in the extreme heat of the summer as well as the shivering cold of win-
ter; and, of course, in some parts of the world for longer days or shorter days
as well.
Towards the end of this section, the analogy of eating is used in relation to
property (v.188). Fasting requires one to abstain from eating, which would
necessarily be eating what is legal. Now we are told not to eat, in a general
sense, that which is illegal, or acquired through corrupt means. The Qur’an
repeatedly condemns corruption of all kinds. The fast is a physical and spiritual
discipline to control one’s desires. It is a device not just for coming closer to
God but also for learning the importance and true meaning of God conscious-
ness. When the fast is over, the spiritual renewal moves on to the next chal-
lenge: to control one’s passion for vanities, for greed and illegal possession. Just
as we saw in an earlier passage concerning deriving sustenance by eating what
is good on earth, so here too we are not to think of fasting in a narrow perspec-
tive. The task of following the right path is extensive and all inclusive: it
touches all aspects of human life. As so often, the Qur’an indicates the integra-
tive and inclusive aspect of its underlying principles by such switches of subject
matter. The technique presents a challenge: to reason with the shifts of subject
matter to find the connection of underlying and unifying principle. Balance
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AL-BAQARA: FASTING
and equity apply across the whole range of human life. The insight and lessons
of spiritual discipline apply to and operate in all the mundane aspects of our
human nature and daily life.
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18
AL-BAQARA
WAR AND PEACE
190. Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not commit aggression: God
loves not the aggressors.
191. Slay them wherever you may come upon them, and expel them from where they
had expelled you; for oppression (persecution) is worse than slaughter; but fight
them not near the Sacred Mosque, unless they fight you therein; but if they fight you
therein, slay them. Such is the reward of unbelievers.
192. But if they desist, then God is All-forgiving, Compassionate to each.
193. Fight them until persecution is no more, and religion is for God. But if they desist,
then all hostility shall cease, except against those who wilfully do wrong.
194. A Holy Month will substitute for a Holy Month, and sacrilege calls for retalia-
tion. Thus, if anyone commits aggression against you, retaliate against him in the
same measure. But fear God, and know that God is with those who are conscious
of Him.
195. And spend your wealth in the cause of God, and do not with your own hands hurl
yourself to destruction; but do good; for God loves those who do good.
And so we arrive not at the heart of the Qur’an but rather at the predica-
ment of our time. These verses are some of the most controversial, bandied
around by some Muslims to justify indiscriminate violence and by some non-
Muslims to argue that Islam is inherently violent. Both are widely off the mark.
There can be no doubt that these verses now condition relations between Mus-
lims and non-Muslims, therefore they require careful reading and clear under-
standing by all. They have immense bearing on what Muslims should demand
of themselves and how non-Muslims should hold us to account.
135
My question is simple: how does one get from the definitive declarative
statement that opens this passage—‘but do not commit aggression: God loves
not the aggressors’—to a blanket warrant for violence? Answer: only by dis-
torting one’s reason and ignoring how this passage fits within the whole of the
Qur’an’s moral and ethical framework.
In reading this passage, it is necessary to keep the cautionary notes I have
made in mind. First, no passage can be taken out of context; all must be read
in conjunction and in light of their relationship to the whole of the Qur’an.
Second, we have to remember the Qur’an was revealed over a period of 23
years and addresses itself both to the actual circumstances of a real community
of ordinary human beings as well as to all people for all time. This means that
apart from needing to know what problems confronted the Muslims at the
time of Revelation, we also have another major factor to consider: the mindset,
the outlook the Qur’an seeks to promote.
In this passage the Qur’an is speaking to ordinary flawed human beings in
a terrible predicament. It is a predicament that humanity has been all too
capable of recreating down through history, so the specifics directed to one
time and place have relevance far beyond the particular circumstances. And
what I find so hopeful and uplifting is that in these circumstances the Qur’an
does not expect people to be perfect and follow a counsel of perfection; and
yet, simultaneously, it raises their souls and minds to the path of perfectabil-
ity. It limits the permission to resist, while giving guidance on how to strive
to do better, how to limit the damage human beings can cause to themselves,
other people and the world in which they live. It offers limits and restraints
that lead towards bettering the human condition; it points to ways of learning
how to make peace. The Qur’an is consistent in being a manual for reform,
not a one-off leap to the ideal, but a process, an ongoing task, an effort that
must continually be made by mind and soul, a course to be returned to time
and time again.
Let us start by looking at the context in which these verses were revealed.
The tiny Muslim community, numbering no more than a few hundred people,
is under siege. There is open hostility between Muslims and various Arabian
tribes, particularly the Quraysh of Mecca. Having failed to suppress Islam in
Mecca, and knowing that Muslims have found refuge in Medina and are gain-
ing strength, the Quraysh have taken up the sword to annihilate the Muslims
once and for all.
The Quraysh are preparing for a major battle—the battle of Badr (c.624)—
which will decide whether Muslims survive or perish. The Quraysh are com-
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AL-BAQARA: WAR AND PEACE
mitted to the complete destruction of the Muslim community, as a later verse

makes clear: ‘they will persist in fighting you until they turn you away from
your faith, if they can’ (217).
So what options do the Muslims have? In these ultimate circumstances per-
mission is given to the Muslim community, who up to this point had refrained
from fighting, to fight in self-defence. The verses were revealed in situ when
hostilities were in progress and the very survival of the Muslims as a commu-
nity was at stake.
And there are specific instructions in these verses which are just that: spe-
cific to one historic situation. For example, the personal pronoun in the word
‘slay them’ makes it clear that the Qur’an is referring to those who are engaged
in hostilities against the Muslims, specifically the Quraysh. These persecutors
had driven Muslims out of their homes in Mecca. So the followers of the
Prophet are given permission to ‘expel them from where they had expelled you’.
They occupied the Sacred Mosque in Mecca, and the Muslims are asked not
to fight within its precincts if possible.
And yet, in these circumstances Muslims are told not to ‘transgress lim-
its’—by which is meant commit atrocities, kill women, children or non-com-
batants, or burn down property or destroy cattle and fields, or respond
disproportionately to aggression—for transgression could lead to self-destruc-
tion: ‘do not with your own hands hurl yourself to destruction’ (v.195). And
if the enemy ceases fighting, Muslims must lay down their arms; only hostility
is to be met with hostility. Thus, the fight is resistance not to exterminate the
enemy but only to persuade them to cease hostilities.
There are, then, general principles here which have broader applications.
The only possible justification for war according to the Qur’an, the fundamen-
tal principle if you like, is self-defence. The only legitimate enemy is those who
wage war against you—a principle that is also laid down in 22:39 (‘permission
to fight is given to those against whom war is being wrongfully waged’) and
again in 60:80 and 4:91. This is why the three battles of the Prophet, Badr and
Uhud, and the Battle of Trenches, were all defensive in character. The last one
was in fact not a battle at all: the defence, a trench around Medina, was so good
that the enemy was unable to cross it and turned back after a couple of months
laying siege out of sheer boredom. The corollary is that aggression is forbidden,
Muslims are not to begin hostilities: ‘do not commit aggression’ for ‘God loves
not the aggressors’.
Defensive fighting in the Qur’an is related directly to oppression. Oppres-
sion, persecution, we are told, are worse than ‘slaughter’. As history shows,
137
oppression can lead to unspeakable atrocities, the ongoing denigration and

humiliation of human dignity by denying people their freedom and right to
flourish and prosper. Oppression and persecution demean both the oppressor
and the oppressed [12]. They fuel continual hatreds and generate new conflicts
by denying the rightful liberties and opportunities to thrive that should be
enjoyed by all people. They are the living death of the spirit inflicted on the
innocent. It was to prevent just such an occurrence that the Qur’an permits
the Muslims of Medina to stand up and fight against the oppressors of Mecca
who are torturing and abusing those Muslims who did not migrate from the
city with the Prophet, as they abused and preyed upon Muslims before the
migration.
In a later verse the Qur’an considers the nature of oppression: ‘if they do
not let you be, and do not offer you peace, and do not stay their hands’; in
other words, oppression is continuous suppression, that denies the right and
freedom to live according to one’s conscience and identity and allows no
option for peace. The word often translated as ‘oppression’ is fitna. It incor-
porates the idea of persecution, suffering, slaughter, sedition and constant
distress. It is also synonymous with hindering people from practising their
faith. It is in these circumstances that war, which the Qur’an later in this sura
describes as a ‘heinous thing’ (v.217), becomes legitimate. It is this fight
against oppression and for survival that the Qur’an sees as just war ‘in the
cause of God’.
The phrase ‘in the cause of God’ has nothing to do with fighting for the
propagation of faith, which is not mentioned once in the Qur’an. The ‘cause’
here is strictly liberation from persecution and oppression. Neither does the
verse ‘until persecution is no more and religion is for God’ (v.193) have any-
thing to do with the domination of Islam and the subjugation of non-believers.
If it did, I would have severe doubts! Rather, it points to the end result of free-
dom from oppression: God can be worshipped without fear of persecution.
Indeed, the phrase ‘religion is for God’ implies worship in general by all faith
communities. This is made clear in 22:40 where those who fight oppression in
‘the cause of God’ liberate ‘cloisters and churches and synagogues and mosques
in which God’s name is much remembered’ and which otherwise ‘would have
been pulled down’. The words used are exactly the same: ‘religion is for God’.
The message of these verses is that the final outcome of fighting against oppres-
sion should be that there is no persecution on the basis of religion and every-
one is at liberty to hold their chosen belief. There is no tension here with the
pluralist outlook we have found in all the earlier passages.
138
In my opinion, the opposite interpretation, that fighting is to be continued

till all people accept Islam, not only makes a mockery of the spirit of the
Qur’an but makes numerous other verses—such as the one we read later in this
sura, ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ (v.256)—totally meaningless. It also
renders all those verses where the Qur’an exhorts the believer to make agree-
ments with other communities superfluous.
This, however, has not stopped certain scholars from interpreting these
verses in exactly this way. For example, Sayyid Qutb, the intellectual ideologue
of Muslim Brotherhood, interprets v.190 as ‘fighting in Islam must be under-
taken only to promote the aims defined by Islam: to make God’s word supreme
in the world’ [13]. He goes even further in his interpretation of v.192: ‘But if
they desist, know that God is much-Forgiving, Merciful’. Simply desisting from
fighting, says Qutb, is not good enough. The enemies are ‘required to renounce
their denial of God and their rejection of His message’ [14].
But this is by no means a common interpretation. Maulana Mawdudi, the
founder of the Jamaat-e-Islami of Pakistan, who is frequently lumped with
Qutb, offers a totally different interpretation of v.192. ‘What is meant by
“desisting”’, says Mawdudi, ‘is not the abandonment of unbelief and polythe-
ism on the part of the unbelievers but rather their distance from active hostility
to the religion enjoined by God. The unbelievers, the polytheist, the atheist,
has each been empowered to hold on to his belief and to worship whomsoever
and whatsoever he wishes’ [15].
This passage, 2:190–95, is usually read in conjunction with a number of
other verses where we find the injunction to fight, such as 4:76, 84, 89, 91 and
9: 5, 12, 14, 29, 36, 123. But the verses that have attracted most attention, both
from the classical commentators and critics of the Qur’an, are 9:5, known as
‘the sword verse’, and 3:149, known nowadays as ‘the terror verse’. Given their
relevance to this passage, it is worth discussing these verses here.
I don’t see the sword verse, ‘kill the associators (mushrikin) wherever you
find them, and take them, and confine them, and lie in wait for them at every
place of ambush’, as a command to all and sundry. Once again, it is a specific
instruction to those in the thick of battle. The first part of the verse speaks of
‘sacred months’ when a truce of a sort was supposed to be in operation; but
with the exception of the tribes of the Bani Damrah and the Bani Kananah,
who respected the treaties they made with Muslims, all other tribes frequently
violated their agreements and continued to kill and persecute Muslims. Indeed,
violation of agreement was a common characteristic of the Arabian tribes in
their relations with Muslims. Here again, the survival of the Muslim commu-
139
nity was at stake. Muslims are thus urged to use the tactics of warfare to defend
themselves, but as before, once the enemy ‘repents’, that is hostilities cease, they
must be allowed to ‘go their way’. On the battlefield too, the enemy did not
play fair and abide by widely accepted tribal agreements. Muslims followed
the injunction to desist from fighting, and would sheathe their swords when
the enemy laid down their weapons. But the Quraysh often took advantage of
this and practised deception, thus killing many Muslims. This verse therefore
expresses total exasperation about ‘those with whom you make an agreement,
then they break their agreement every time’ (8:56); and these are the specific
people to whom this verse refers.
When taken out of its specific context, the sword verse can be used to justify
all variety of violence. As I noted in chapter 3, it is the favourite verse of both
fictional and real villains; followed closely by the terror verse: ‘We will put ter-
ror into the hearts of the unbelievers. They serve other gods for whom no sanc-
tion has been revealed’ (3: 149). Yet, the apparent meaning attributed to the
terror verse could not be further from the true spirit of the Qur’an. Here, the
Qur’an is addressing Prophet Muhammad himself. The verse was revealed dur-
ing the Battle of Uhud (c.625), when the small and ill-equipped army of the
Prophet faced a much larger and well-equipped enemy. He was concerned
about the outcome of the battle. The Qur’an reassures him and promises that
the enemy will be terrified by the Prophet’s unprofessional army. Seen in its
context, it is quite clear that it is not a general instruction to all Muslims, but
a commentary on what was happening at that time.
Unfortunately, the voices that portray such specific, on-the-spot commen-
tary and instruction as clear universal commands have a strong appeal for some
disillusioned Muslim youth. However, those who do what the Qur’an demands,
who ‘think’, ‘reflect’ and most of all read verses in their proper context, are
brought abruptly back to two insuperable propositions: one, do not commit
aggression; two, the fight against oppression does not and should never ini-
tially be by force of arms. Doing justice, working for justice, ensuring that jus-
tice and equity are made real in society is a constant task, the progressive and
insistent requirement of the Qur’an; that is its path of peace. This is why the
passage concludes by providing quite another sense of ‘the cause of God’:
requiring Muslims to ‘spend their wealth’ to ‘do good’ rather than hurl them-
selves to destruction. These phrases relate to all that we have discussed in previ-
ous passages in regard to ‘spending’ in the most extensive sense of utilising the
whole range of human abilities to build just, equitable, open and tolerant soci-
eties. This verse integrates the conditions where human failure and perfidy may
140
create the conditions of conflict into the broader framework of the Qur’an’s
moral and ethical exhortations. It is the broader framework which creates and
insists on limits. Only when under direct, physical attack does fighting in self-
defence become a legitimate alternative.
But there is one other reason why young and disillusioned Muslims who
feel under threat, marginalised and misunderstood are so easily caught up in
the seduction of the gun. We have to acknowledge that virtually all biographies
of the Prophet and so many books by Muslims on the history of Islam dwell
endlessly on the battles for survival of the original Muslim community. Mus-
lims are taught more about the details of those few battles, conducted mostly
as successions of single combat and lasting in the case of both Badr and Uhud
less than a day, than the details of a career of twenty-three years during which
the Prophet faced down oppression by constructive peaceful means. We are
too intoxicated by the historic military successes of Muslim imperialism,
though there we pick and choose much more carefully. And we all seem to
forget that consistently the consensus of the ulama, the religious scholars, of
India denied the legitimacy of declaring war against British colonialism because
the practice of Islam and survival of the community itself was not under threat,
however much the opportunities to thrive might have been prejudiced.
Our world has been very good at generating injustice and oppression. The
followers of all faiths have been less than exemplary in championing the ways
of peace and just peaceful coexistence. Humanity as a whole has failed in not
transgressing the limits. On the contrary it has found innumerable ways to
operate oppression and persecution, to deny the rights and dignity of ‘other’
people. War, even war for survival, is indeed a ‘heinous thing’ that does injus-
tice and usually perpetuates the cycle of oppression by creating new conditions
in which it can thrive. I read the Qur’an as a way to think and learn about how
to make peace, justice and equity triumphant, because that is not something
war can achieve. But I am equally at ease with the proposition that war can
only be a last resort. It can be undertaken only when attacked and threatened
with extermination; only to make an aggressor desist. Most assuredly, I do not
think this is something Muslims have to apologise for—they just have to ensure
they go no further!
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19
AL-BAQARA
HAJJ
196. And perform the Pilgrimage (Hajj) and the pious visit (umra) for the sake of God.
But if you are prevented, send an offering for sacrifice, such as you can easily afford,
and do not shave your heads until the offering reaches its destination. And if any
of you are ill, or diseased in the head, in compensation either fast, or feed the poor,
or offer sacrifice. And if you are safe and secure, then whoever breaks his state of
consecration in the period between the umra and the hajj shall give whatever of-
fering he can easily afford. He who cannot afford it should fast three days during
the hajj and seven days on his return, making ten full days. This is for those whose
household is near the Sacred Mosque. So fear God, and know that God is severe in
punishment.
197. The Hajj takes place in familiar months. Whoever undertakes the Pilgrimage dur-
ing these months shall abstain from promiscuity, no vice and no discord is allowed
during the pilgrimage. Whatever good you do is known to God. And make provi-
sion for yourself, but the best of provisions is God consciousness. So remain conscious
of Me, O you possessed of understanding.
198. It is no sin for you to seek the bounty of your Lord (by trading during pilgrim-
age). When you return from Arafat, remember God at the Sacred Monument, and
remember Him as He has guided you, although before that you had indeed been
among those who go astray.
199. Then surge onward with the multitude of other people, and ask for God to forgive
you your sins. For God is All-forgiving, Compassionate to each.
200. When you have performed your holy rites, remember God, as you remember your
fathers, or yet more devoutly. There are among them such as pray: ‘Lord! Give us in
this world!’ but they will have no portion in the Hereafter.
143
201. But there are among them such as pray: ‘Our Lord! Give us good in this world and
good in the Hereafter, and defend us from the torment of the Fire!’
202. To these shall fall a share of what they have earned; and God is swift in reckoning.
203. Remember God during the appointed days. He who hastens to leave in two days
commits no sin, he who stays commits no sin, if he be God-fearing. Then remain
conscious of God, and be assured that to Him you will ultimately be gathered.
It is the greatest annual gathering of humanity, when almost three million

people from all corners of the globe, representing a myriad of nationalities,
ethnicities, languages and cultures, join in the greatest collective act of religious
witness. It is the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, the subject of this passage. But
far more than providing the most amazing logistical act of witness, the hajj
provides some of the most important insights into the essence of Islam and the
worldview it seeks to inspire.
As classical commentators note, it conveys to the living some inkling of the
gathering that awaits us all on the Last Day, when all the souls of all people
who have ever existed will stand together before God to be judged. Participa-
tion in the hajj is also a real demonstration and experience of the way that Islam
integrates the individual and the collective. It generates an extraordinary sense
of community, of unity with the emphasis on equity. The unity of the hajj is
based on the eradication of all distinctions of race, culture, colour, class. All
pilgrims are dressed alike; ideally a king or a billionaire may walk alongside a
pauper and not know the difference. If, in the eyes of God, such distinctions
are of such little moment, then we have reason not to be too beholden or over-
powered by them in our daily lives; it is evidence of the balance we should
strive to achieve. The hajj is proof there are things more important than the
social conventions of human invention, which can be perverse and contrary
to the balance that Islam seeks to guide us towards. But then, there is the even
more profound insight that in a community with unity and equity, there is no
dissolution of individuality. The most often repeated statement of the pilgrims
is the ultimate personal statement: ‘Labeik!’ ‘Here I am!’ In this sea of human-
ity, before God each individual is known in their uniqueness, just as each will
ultimately be judged and charged with responsibility only for their individual
actions and intentions.
It seems to me that the hajj resolves one of the great enduring philosophical
disputes: the supposed contradiction between the collective and the individual.
The distinction has been made into a thorny issue, a set of irreconcilable oppo-
sites, a call to diametrically opposed systems of government. It has divided
societies and peoples and has been responsible for some of the greatest atroci-
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ties of history. To experience the hajj is not so much to resolve this nexus of
argument but rather to witness it dissolve as an illusory distinction. All people
are individual and unique, but necessarily and inevitably must live within com-
munities, in human groupings among and with other people. We are faced not
with a contradiction but with realities that must be balanced. In being con-
scious of God, the Creator and Judge of all, we find the understanding and
guidance to effect this balance. It is not just the great mass of humanity gath-
ered together bent on a single purpose that makes the hajj such a moving,
humbling and inspiring experience; it is the profundity of the way of thinking
it teaches us about our relationship to God, to other people and ourselves.
Hajj is one of the main pillars of Islam, an obligation for all Muslims to
perform once in their lives, if they are able. It was the last of the major obliga-
tions to be instituted. According to the most reliable sources, it was made
obligatory only in the ninth year of the hijra. It was established by this passage,
known as the ‘hajj verses’, after the Muslims led by Prophet Muhammad had
retaken Mecca, and all pagan idols and shrines had been removed from the
Kaaba, the house of Worship originally built by Prophet Abraham towards
which all Muslims turn when they pray. The Kaaba is the black draped cube
at the centre of the Sacred Mosque in Mecca.
The word ‘hajj’ means ‘effort’; like fasting, the performance of hajj requires
spiritual and physical exertion. While these verses of the Qur’an establish this
institution for Muslims, they describe few of the rites of hajj as we have come
to know them. It is through the example of the Prophet, in the reports of how
he performed the pilgrimage, that we learn how these various pieces of hajj are
put together in a set of rituals that culminate in the supreme hours of a Mus-
lim’s life.
The hajj takes place in the month of Dhul-Hijjah, the twelfth month of the
Islamic calendar, and falls on the 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th of that month. It
is a journey that requires the pilgrims to ‘take provisions’ with them to ensure
they do not suffer from any financial problems both during the travel and
once they get to Mecca, where they will spend some time. But it is typical that
even as the Qur’an makes something obligatory, it recognises the difficulties
that ordinary people may face and institutes alternatives, so that none are
excluded. So, just as with fasting, there are exemptions: those who cannot
travel for any reason can make compensation by ‘fasting, or feed the poor, or
offer sacrifice’.
The Qur’an requires the pilgrims to be at a place called ‘Arafat’. The name
of this valley comes from the root word arafa meaning ‘to know’: something
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happens at Arafat, as I know from experience, that enables the believers ‘to
know’ they are in the presence of God. It requires a ‘sacrifice’; and eventually
shaving one’s head as an act of humility.
During the five days of hajj, pilgrims from all over the Muslim world come
together in Mecca, pray and worship in unison, and move constantly from
place to place. Before entering the holy areas, they are required to be in a state
of grace. They abandon their worldly thought and desires and put on ihram,
two white, unsewn sheets of cloth. The actual pilgrimage starts with the
performance of tawaf, walking seven times round the Kaaba. After tawaf
comes sa’y, when the pilgrims run between the hills of Safa and Marwah.
These hills are now joined by a covered walkway within the Sacred Mosque in
Mecca. The ritual is in memory of Prophet Abraham’s wife Hager, as discussed
previously.
The night of the 8th Dhul-Hijjah is spent at the hill town of Mina, near
Mecca. The 9th is the day of Arafat, the supreme moment of the hajj. The pil-
grims leave early to cover some five miles, arriving at Arafat before midday.
When the sun passes the meridian, the ritual of wuquf, or standing, begins.
The entire congregation, nowadays well over two million, prays as a single
entity. They are joined by Muslims everywhere who observe this day as one of
the two Eids, the high points of the Muslim calendar. The sacrifice of a sheep
or goat or other animal gives the name to this Eid: al Adha, the feast of sacrifice.
The meat of the sacrificed animals is then distributed in charity. Today, with
so many pilgrims, finding ways to distribute the meat is not the least of the logis-
tical challenges. In Muslim communities around the world, kurban, the meat
of sacrificial animals, is distributed among the entire community. It is prized
as a means of participation, of feeling near to the great gathering in Mecca.
Immediately after sunset, there is a mass exodus from the enclosed plain of
Arafat to the more open area of Muzdalifah, a couple of miles away, where the
night is spent under the open sky. On the morning of the 10th, the pilgrims
return to spend three days in Mina. During this second stay in Mina, the pil-
grims sacrifice an animal and engage in ‘Stoning the Devil’; three small pebbles
are thrown at each of the three masonry pillars marking the different spots
where the Devil tried to tempt Prophet Abraham—a gesture that symbolises
the pilgrims’ intention to cast out the ‘evil within’. Once these rites are per-
formed, the pilgrims conclude their hajj by removing their ihram and shaving
their head or cutting their hair.
The complex rites of hajj are performed in ‘quick pace’ and in a ‘peaceful
condition’. The holy areas are inviolate and nothing within can be harmed:
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animals, plants, not even a fly. The pilgrims shun all signs of vanity and refrain
from combing their hair, wearing perfume or clipping their nails. The whole
being of the pilgrim should be completely devoted to Allah without attention
to appearance. At the most intense moments of knowing God’s presence,
knowing the presence of the great mass of humanity and knowing oneself, the
ego should be suppressed, for in the power of these experiences we are most
truly humbled. Desire, including sexual desire, should be put aside. The pil-
grims come to Mecca dishevelled and covered with dust to seek God’s mercy
and crave His forgiveness. From the moment they don their ihram, the pilgrim
declares, ‘O Lord, here am I in response to your call’. Throughout their journey,
they ‘celebrate His praises’ by uttering ‘Allah-u-Akbar’ (Allah is the Greatest)
and ‘There is no God but Allah’.
These verses institute the hajj as the climactic point of Muslim existence.
But they also make clear the theme of continuity, an important aspect of the
mindset of Islam. The hajj was an ancient rite established in Arabia long before
Islam. This is evident in the reference to its taking place ‘in familiar months’:
these are the Islamic months of Shawwal, Dhul-Qi‘dah and Dhul-Hijjah. The
point being made is that they should not be altered. At the time of Prophet
Muhammad, pilgrimage was completely assimilated into Arabian pagan prac-
tices. Idols punctuated the Kaaba and pagan customs had introduced certain
undignified and discriminatory practices. The tribe of Quraysh who inhabited
Mecca and guarded the Kaaba together with some of their allies were raised
to the position of a religious aristocracy. They were allowed to perform certain
rites fully attired, while members of other tribes had to shed their clothes,
which were regarded as unclean, and either perform these rites completely
naked or to obtain ‘ritually clean cloth’ from the Quraysh. The strict pagan
code also prohibited those wishing to perform the rite from consuming any
food other than Meccan food. The pilgrimage was a major source of income
and prestige for Meccans, and in part explains their initial hostility to the new
religion of Islam, its Prophet and his followers, who were seen as a threat to
the institution that brought trade and profit to the city.
Of all the practical manifestations of Islam, the hajj has captured the imagi-
nation of Muslims everywhere. Many save all their lives to go on a once-in-a-
lifetime journey. Some still cover long distances on foot over a period of years,
thus demonstrating an unparalleled devotion. In Southeast Asia, in Malaysia
and Indonesia, for example, it is customary for people to visit everyone they
know and take leave of them before setting off on hajj. The custom dates from
the time when hajj was not only a journey of a lifetime, but a journey from
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which many might never return. To become a haji or hajjah, one who has made
the pilgrimage, marked a great change in one’s life, and the title is an honour
as much as an honorific; those who return are considered renewed and invested
with an intensified sense of spirituality.
I performed the hajj five times during the years I lived in Saudi Arabia in
the 1970s. On one particular hajj, I walked from Jeddah to Mecca, and every-
where in the holy areas, with a donkey. I can say without doubt that there is
no experience on earth like that of hajj: to see the pilgrims, all dressed in white,
move like a mighty river, meandering and swirling, in a great tide of devotion
and reverence. The sound of their pleading voices and the patter of their
hurrying feet fill the air with awe. Despite the enormous numbers and the dif-
ferent places from which they come, there is an overarching feeling of brother-
hood and sisterhood. Under the open sky in Muzdalifah, one discovers that
whatever the cultural, social, national or ethnic background of the pilgrims,
they all, as Malcolm X says in his autobiography, snore in the same language
[16]. And yet, the experience is intensely personal: it is me standing before
God, uttering His praises, quivering with emotion, thirsty for spiritual ful-
filment, asking for His forgiveness. It is an experience hard to describe, for
what is felt defies language. Once you have stood at Arafat, alone in a congre-
gation that spreads on all sides as far as the eye can see, you ‘know’: you feel
the Grace of God. That’s why, I suspect, the attraction of hajj is so compelling
for Muslims.
There is also the lesser pilgrimage, the umra, which consists in performing
a limited set of the rituals that make up the hajj. The great distinction is that
while the umra brings one to Mecca and provides people with the enormous
sense of being before God that comes from visiting the Kaaba in person, the
umra remains an individual occasion, or something undertaken by small group-
ings of families and friends. Umra can be performed at any time outside of the
hajj season. It is a memorable achievement for any Muslim who lives outside
of Mecca, but it can never match the majesty of the crowning experience of
one’s life that is the hajj.
As ever with the Qur’an, there is consideration for practical matters in the
midst of even the most supreme religious moments. Pilgrimage made Mecca
a centre for trade. The Muslim pilgrims who come to Mecca are told it is ‘no
sin’ for them ‘to seek the bounty of your Lord (by trading during pilgrimage)’.
Down through history this has indeed been a bounty: it enables pilgrims to
finance their journey from all corners of the globe. It has made the hajj a major
institution for the exchange not just of goods but also of ideas. Indeed, some
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of the greatest thinkers of Muslim civilisation made performing the hajj a ratio-
nale for extensive travel during which they lived, worked, learned and taught
on what were extensive, circuitous travels rather than a there-and-back-again
journey. A whole genre of literature records both the spiritual and mundane
exploits of such pilgrims.
And again the Qur’an is concerned to point to the distinction between
inward meaning and outward form. Pilgrimage is not just for material gain,
for benefit in this world, even if it is no sin to trade while on pilgrimage. The
bounty to be sought must always be a balance: ‘Our Lord! Give us good in
this world and good in the Hereafter.’ The bounty we seek must be balanced
by the remembrance and consciousness of God that we accumulate. And it
must be a distributive and active bounty that we employ, or as we have dis-
cussed previously ‘spend’, in renewed commitment to making the world a
better place for all.
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AL-BAQARA
APOSTASY AND MIGRATION
204. Now there is a kind of man whose views on the life of this world please you. He calls
upon God to witness what is in his heart; yet is he the most contentious of adversar-
ies in dispute.
205. When he departs, he goes about the earth spreading corruption and destroying
crops and cattle. God loves not corruption.
206. When it is said to him, ‘Fear God’, his arrogance drives him into sin. Hell will settle
his account, an evil resting place, indeed!
207. And there is a kind of man who would willingly sell his own self to please God. And
God is gentle to His servants.
208. O you who believe! Enter the fold of peace, all of you. Do not follow in the footsteps
of Satan, for he is to you a manifest enemy.
209. If you stumble after clear signs have been revealed to you, then know that God is
Almighty, Wise.
210. Are they really waiting for God to come to them in cloud shadows together with
angels—although by then all will have been decided, and unto God all things will
have been brought back.
211. Ask the Children of Israel how many manifest signs We revealed to them. And one
who alters God’s blessing after it has come to him, God is severe in punishment.
212. To those who disbelieve, the life of this world has been made beauteous. They mock
those who believe. But they who are conscious of God shall be above them on the
Day of Resurrection. And God bestows his bounty on whomsoever He wills, beyond
all reckoning.
213. Mankind was one single community. Then God sent forth prophets as heralds of
glad tidings and as warners; and with them sent down the Book with the Truth, to
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judge among humankind in matters in which they disputed. But none other than
the selfsame people who had been granted this [revelation] began, out of mutual
jealousy, to disagree about its meaning after clear signs were sent to them. Then
God guided the believers to the Truth, regarding which they differed. For God
guides whomsoever He will to a path that is straight.
214. Or do you think you will enter the Garden without undergoing that which befell
those who passed away before you? They were afflicted with misery and hardship,
and they quaked, to the point that the Messenger and the believers with him cried:
‘When comes God’s help?’ Ah, surely, the help of God is near!
215. They ask you what they should spend on others. Say: ‘Whatever of your wealth you
spend for good goes to parents and kindred, the orphans, the poor and needy, the
wayfarer.’ And whatever good you do, God is aware of it.
216. Fighting has been prescribed for you, although it is a matter hateful to you. But it is
possible that you hate a thing which is good for you, and that you love a thing which
is bad for you. God knows, and you know not.
217. They ask you concerning fighting in the Sacred Month. Say: ‘Fighting in it is a
heinous thing; but to turn people from the path of God, to deny Him, to prevent ac-
cess to the Sacred Mosque, and expel its people: that is more heinous in God’s sight.’
Persecution is worse than slaughter. They will persist in fighting you until they turn
you away from your faith, if they can. But if any of you should turn away from this
faith and die in unbelief, their works shall come to nothing in this world and in the
Hereafter, those are the inhabitants of the Fire; therein shall they dwell forever.
218. Those who believed and those who emigrated and exerted themselves in the path of
God, these have hope of God’s Mercy. God is All-forgiving, Compassionate to each.
Once again we come to the thorny issues of how to operate religion, how
to live a religious life in this world. This passage reprises themes we have already
encountered to set a context for two particular concepts: apostasy, the renounc-
ing of faith after having embraced it, and migration. Both are placed in the
context of dissension, the all too evident human talent for arguing about mean-
ing and claiming possession of the truth. I must admit I did not find this pas-
sage easy, and the selections I made from among the translations reflect the
way I came to a sense of the connections it makes.
We begin by considering two alternative models. There are plausible leaders,
populists, the kind who wear their religion as a divine warrant and offer what
people want to hear about success in this world. Two things distinguish such
people: they are ‘most contentious of adversaries in dispute’ and they end up
spreading corruption on the earth that causes the destruction of crops and
cattle. Clearly the readiness to identify and contend with adversaries and its
end product of causing real devastation are connected. The link is arrogance,
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the primal sin as we have already seen. The arrogance is both proclaiming they
have the only answer for the ills of the world, which everyone should follow,
and the readiness to argue and dispute, which inevitably leads to conflict with
those who have other views about how to live. We have met their kind and the
issues they raise in earlier passages.
The alternative model is provided by those ‘who would willingly sell his own
self to please God’: people who would forego their personal interests and get-
ting ahead in this world to do what is right, that is to make the greatest effort
to follow God’s guidance as best they can.
The comparison prompts the reflection that all who aspire to faith and sur-
render to faith should model themselves on the latter, not the former. What
is commended to those who believe, v. 208 literally says, ‘enter wholly into self
surrender’. It may, therefore, seem perverse that I have followed the translation
of this term as ‘enter the fold of peace, all of you’. Apart from the fact that I
find the phrasing elegant, I made this choice because it does two things. First,
it conveys what I understand as the purpose and meaning of the religion, the
basic message that is conveyed in the Qur’an: making a world of peace and
peaceful co-existence. Second, this form of words unlocked an insight into the
connections I see being made in this whole passage. Self-surrender is the most
basic concept of faith, it is the condition of placing total trust in the certainty
of the existence of God and recognising that one is the creation of a Merciful
and Compassionate Creator. The consequence of such consciousness is giving
one’s self over completely to doing what God has commended, trying to live
in this world to earn one’s place in Paradise in the Hereafter. The ‘fold of peace’
is then a state of personal certainty and acceptance, a coming to terms with
one’s true nature. It is also recognition of the real nature and purpose of the
world in which we exist. It is the state of being that one should strive to achieve,
a state of being in stark contrast to the arrogant, worldly, domineering and
destructive populism identified at the beginning of the passage; dedicated
commitment to working peacefully being the best way to make a better world
based on justice, equity and dignity for all.
Surrendering oneself to God, entering the fold of peace, is no guarantee. It
does not make people perfect. Self-surrender is the starting point, the point
from which one sets off in search of the straight path, seeking to make a com-
munity of the middle way a reality. However, we can all expect to stumble. We
live in a far from perfect world. As we have seen, following the straight path is
an extensive task requiring continual critical self-reflection as well as profound
reasoning to understand and wrestle with the injustices and inequities in the
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world around us. In this endeavour, we can derive support and encouragement
from the fact that God knows our intentions. Faith does not make us perfect,
but continual striving, despite our failings and what stems from these failings,
is not a worthless exercise.
What brings us to enter the fold of peace, to commit ourselves to self-
surrender by achieving consciousness of God in all aspects of our life? There
are people who refuse to believe without a sound and light show of demon-
strable, tangible proof. In an increasingly secular world, there are many who
find religion incomprehensible and beyond belief. There are also many who
hover on the fringes, not discounting religion entirely but unable to commit
to belief. And there are many people who find religion wanting because they
find believers fallible, not good advertisements for the virtues of faith, and
therefore suspend their judgement about the message and guidance from
God. By the time such people get the definitive proof they seek, at a point
where all will be made clear, that is in the Hereafter, it will be too late to take
the option for faith.
The Qur’an returns to the example of the Children of Israel once again to
remind us that following God’s guidance is not easy. Despite multiple instances
of definitive proof, the ‘signs from God’ they received, nevertheless they
engaged in all the ways by which human interpretation distorts, deforms and
perverts revelation to suit their own tastes; and hence they were punished—
and repeatedly forgiven.
Those who disbelieve value the beauties and bounties of this world. In an
age of consumerism and celebrity culture, where people judge and are judged
by what they have, it is not hard to distinguish what is intended here. By con-
trast, people of faith should not be besotted with the material things of this
world, even if they are mocked for setting different standards. We are coming
to the heart of the matter here. In one sense the instances and arguments that
are outlined here have contextual historic reference to the Muslims who, for
the sake of faith, became refugees, leaving behind their families and possessions
and migrating to Medina. The migrants had to start again. They lived frugally.
What mattered to them was not worldly wealth but building a different kind
of society, dedicated to different values. The example of the migrants stands
the test of time; in which case the verse ends by suggesting that worldly wealth
and success are neither indicators nor proof of being on the right path. The
bounty of God is ‘beyond all reckoning’, because it is not merely material but
also spiritual and extends not merely to considerations of this life but also to
the life to come. Those who are conscious of God and surrender to God, who
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seek his bounty in the most extensive sense, will be above those who prospered
in this life on the Day of Reckoning.
All humankind was once one community, states v.213. Muhammad Asad
makes a long argument on this point. He invokes the idea of a state of ‘primi-
tive mentality’ as the original condition of humankind, with all its overtones
of a social evolutionary understanding of human history. I think this is rather
at odds with the Qur’anic vision of the human condition, as well as beside the
point of what is being said here. I take this to be, surely, that all humanity
began endowed with the same moral and ethical faculties and capacity. The
story of Adam we considered earlier defines the conceptual origins of all
humanity. All humans throughout history began with the capacity for knowl-
edge, including knowledge of God and with the same message. Adam, concep-
tually the first man, was also the first prophet. Islam, as scholars have agreed,
can be understood as natural religion. The significance being drawn here is that
all humankind was one community in the sense of having the same basis and
opportunities to live a righteous life in all the differences of their ways of life:
languages, cultures, races and creeds. My problem is not with the idea of evolu-
tion, as we will discuss later. It is with the idea of the primitive. The ‘primitive’
has been employed to deny the moral sense, and inherent moral worth, of dif-
ferent societies [17]. To consider any society at any time in history ‘primitive’
is to assert both a material and moral superiority. It is to cast judgements that
can only cause dissension and conflict. We ought to be only too familiar with
how in history this self-righteous moral superiority has been made the ratio-
nale for many forms of oppression and persecution that have spread more than
their fair share of corruption around the globe.
The Qur’an, I would argue, is not saying that this original condition of being
one community is somehow before the fact of revelation, nor, I think, that
revelation is the reason we are no longer a single community. Rather, I think
once again we are brought back to an obvious conclusion. It was humanity’s
predilection for defining differences, for disputing over identity and belief,
which sundered the single community. A succession of prophets, ‘heralds of
glad tidings’ and warners brought the means to judge, to reason and resolve
the disputes that divide and separate peoples and societies from each other.
Yet, once again, people who received revelation out of ‘mutual jealousy’ fell
into disagreements about its meaning. Of course, we should remember that
while in this and earlier passages the Children of Israel are cited, Christians
are also included, and both stand as examples of the timeless temptation and
errors that face all followers of organised religion. The verse ends with the clear
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statement that, despite the disputes and contention, God guided the believers
to the Truth. I take this to mean that within all religions, indeed all societies,
among all people there are those who hold to the straight path. And for me
the clear implication is that on the straight path we can and perhaps should
strive to be one community: the community of common humanity in all our
diversity and differences working together to make a better world.
All human beings began with the same potential and possibilities, the same
sense of values. It was human diversity which ‘sundered what God had joined’.
Revelation exists to enhance and clarify the scales of human judgement—to
refine the ability to choose and discern between different courses of action.
And still people disagree about the meaning, implications and application of
these messages from God. This verse speaks to the simultaneous contexts of
past, present and future. It has considerable relevance in today’s world where
we can, on the one hand, imagine a global community but, on the other, can-
not eradicate racial prejudice and hatred or rabid nationalism and all the other
ills that divide people. The moral challenge remains the same, and it is a chal-
lenge to everyone, no matter what their faith or no faith.
Making choices and striving to live according to God’s guidance is no simple
option, and often may mean making choices that bring hardship and misfor-
tune in this world. Attaining to and following the path of faith is no guarantee
of a blissful life in the complex muddle that humanity has made of this world.
But God’s succour, the strength to be derived from faith in God, is always near.
So perseverance is called for.
And immediately, we are reminded of the qualities of life that constitute
following the straight path. It is dedicating oneself to ‘spending’, to caring for
the real needs of family and kindred, the poor and the needy, the wayfarer, no
matter who or what they are. We need to think with a distributive and inclu-
sive mentality, employing the resources of this world to improve the circum-
stances and secure the good of ‘others’. I take ‘others’ in the most extensive
sense of all people who do not belong to my nationality, religion, identity, cul-
ture or race. This inclusive care constitutes the peaceable way of making the
world a better place.
Then we come to the clincher, in the sense of where this passage has been
leading us, at least in my suggestion: ‘Fighting is ordained for you, even though
it be hateful to you.’ So I see this entire passage as relating back to the earlier
discussion on war and peace. It deals with the proper reticence we should have
for violence and warfare, the last resort argument, and that while it might be
‘ordained’ in the sense of being inevitable under certain circumstances, it always
comes with limits and should be against our better judgements.
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We can hate something that is good for us, just as much as we might love a
thing that is bad for us. The line of judgement we have to make concerns the
conditions, the circumstances that make the last resort inevitable. War is hei-
nous, but the balance is that ‘persecution is worse than slaughter’. Sometimes
it is necessary to defend those who are being demeaned, denied their freedom
and rights, who are made second-class citizens or worse because of who they
are or what they believe. I agree with Asad that this verse must be read in con-
junction with 190–93, ‘do not commit aggression’, as it is definitely not a blan-
ket warrant for going to war, but rather an argument about the judgement that
has to be made between two evils. It is clearly addressing the historic context
of the time of the Prophet while generating universal principles. There are
obvious parallels, far too many of them, in our own time where communities
have been left to suffer oppression, persecution even genocide, without the rest
of the world springing to their aid. However, it seems to me that every univer-
sal principle we derive from the Qur’an should come with one caveat: the
examples it provides are moral examples. As I have been arguing throughout,
as times change so the means we use to apply these moral principles can and
perhaps should change. There are more ways than going to war to fight oppres-
sion, combat persecution and defend the dignity and freedom of those
afflicted. Sometimes it may be impossible to find another way, but that does
not mean we should stop trying to find peaceful means; though equally it can
mean, however heinous, it may be necessary literally to fight for the sake of a
greater good. The trouble is that human beings have been much better at devis-
ing the means of destruction, the techniques of war and array of modern weap-
onry than devising strategies for making peace. I am not sure how, but I am
sure that remaining within the ‘limits’ we discussed earlier still apply as rules
of war.
Now we come to the connection that, in my mind, links the beginning of
this passage with its ending. We start with the plausible populists and their
self-righteous rhetoric. I think here the Qur’an is directing us towards the fire
and brimstone preachers. These are the people who constantly and obsessively
talk about God, loudly pronounce their faith in Him and invoke Him on every
occasion, but who in reality do nothing but ‘spread corruption’. They are led,
more than anything else, by the arrogance of their own convictions. I find such
people wherever I look in the Muslim world: listen to the speeches of some of
our religious scholars, the declarations of the Taliban, and the rhetoric of many
followers of the ‘Islamic movements’. The real devotees of God spend their lives
quietly and earnestly, ‘to please God’.
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A favourite device of the ‘contentious’ ones is attacking the faith and belief
of others. But it is not just the faith of others, the non-Muslims, that they
attack; their most vehement assaults are focused on those Muslims who in
their opinion are deviating from their prescribed path, or worse: who have left
Islam altogether. In their eyes, apostasy is a cardinal crime, punishable only
by death.
The technical term for apostasy in Islam is riddah or irtidad; an apostate is
called murtadd. The Qur’an does not, contrary to popular belief, prescribe any
punishment for apostasy. On the contrary, it advocates total freedom of con-
science, conviction and belief.
In this passage, those who leave Islam are mentioned twice. The first time,
those who ‘backslide’ in verse 209 are told that they should know ‘God is
Almighty, Wise’. The second mention, in verse 217, is specific to the Muslims
in Mecca and Medina who were being persecuted relentlessly; and the persecu-
tors were not going to stop ‘until they turn you away from your faith’. The
Qur’an tells these Muslims that if they renounce their faith they will be losers
both in this world and in the Hereafter. In neither of these cases does the
Qur’an suggest that apostasy is a capital crime, or indeed that it is a crime at
all! Frankly, if that was the case I would lose my faith.
Instead, the Qur’an leaves matters of faith to individual conscience. Faith is
strictly between an individual and God: ‘For God guides whomsoever He will
to a path that is straight’ (v.213). Later in this sura, as we shall see, we have the
most categorical of all statements on freedom of belief: ‘There is no compul-
sion in religion’ (v.256). Thus, everyone is free to believe or not to believe. To
emphasise this point, the Qur’an tells us elsewhere that if God wanted every-
one to hold the same belief, He would have created a world—a rather boring
one in my opinion—solely of believers: ‘If it had been God’s will, they would
have believed, all who are on earth!’ (10:99). Not only is one free to believe or
not, one is also entitled to act according to whatever one believes and does not
believe: ‘Say: everyone acts according to his own disposition: But your Lord
knows best who it is that is best guided on the way.’ (17:84).
But more than that, the Qur’an acknowledges that belief is not a static phe-
nomenon. There are those, we learn elsewhere, ‘who believe then disbelieve,
then believe again, then disbelieve’ (4:137). So there is constant two-way traffic
and shifting of lanes: believers of one religion may turn to another religion;
and believers of today may turn out to be atheists of tomorrow, and vice versa.
But for everyone who turns away from faith, there is someone who turns
towards faith: ‘should one of you turn back from his religion, then God will
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bring a people, whom He loves and who love Him’ (5:54). There is a balance,
of a sort, that is always maintained.
Towards the end of this passage, those who are persecuted for their belief
and are forced into exile are given hope. There is an obvious historic context:
the people ‘who believed and those who emigrated and exerted themselves in
the path of God’ are the early Muslims in Mecca. They had no option but to
migrate to Medina along with the Prophet Muhammad. But I think there is
also a general point here. The Qur’an sees migration as an option for all those
who suffer religious intolerance, or other forms of oppression and persecution.
This is not just the way of the Prophet Muhammad, but most prophets.
Prophet Abraham, who was threatened by his own people, had to go into exile:
‘I will emigrate for the sake of my Lord’ (29:26; also 37:99). Moses and the
Israelites had to flee the oppression of the Pharaoh: ‘So he escaped from there,
vigilant and fearing for his life, and said “My Lord, deliver me from these
oppressors”’ (28:21).
The Qur’an sees migration as a beneficial exercise. It is encouraged not just
to escape oppression but also in the pursuit of learning. We have already
encountered the other side of the equation: migrants and refugees are to be
helped and supported. They add intellectual and economic capital to a com-
munity, fill gaps in the labour markets and contribute to the economy of both
countries: the one they have left behind and the one they have made their
new home.
The moral imperative to oppose oppression and persecution as well as to
aid those who flee its clutches should remind us that we still can be one com-
munity, a community of common humanity. Such a community must exert
itself in practical, humane ways to protect the weak, the needy, all those who
suffer, whatever their origin, belief or identity, because they are, just like us,
God’s creatures: part of the sacred trust it is our duty to sustain and nurture.
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21
AL-BAQARA
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE
219. They ask you about wine and gambling. Say: ‘In them both lies great sin, as well as
some benefit for humankind; but the evil that they cause is greater than the benefit
which they bring.’ They ask you what they should spend; say: ‘What is surplus to
your needs.’ Thus does God make clear to you His signs: in order that you may
reflect.
220. on this life and the Hereafter. They ask you about orphans. Say: ‘To improve their
condition is best; if you mix their affairs with yours, they are your brothers; God
knows the dishonest from the honest. Had God willed, He could have caused you
hardship: God is Almighty, All-Wise.’
221. Do not marry idolatresses, until they believe: A slave woman who believes is better
than an idolatress, even though she pleases you. Do not give in marriage to idola-
tors until they believe: A male slave who believes is better than an idolator, even
though he pleases you. These people will lead you to the Fire. But God beckons you to
the Garden and forgiveness by His leave. He makes clear His signs to humankind;
perhaps they will remember and reflect.
222. They ask you about menstruation. Say: ‘It is a vulnerable condition: So keep away
from women in menstruation, and do not approach them until they become clean.
When they have cleansed themselves, then come unto them as God has command-
ed. Truly God loves those who turn to Him in repentance and He loves those who
keep themselves pure and clean.
223. Your wives are your tilth; so approach your tilth as you desire, and send [good
deeds] before you for your souls; and fear God, and know that you shall surely meet
Him, and give glad tidings to those who believe.
224. Do not make God, because of your oaths, an excuse for you not to do good, or act
rightly, or make peace between people; God is All-hearing, All-knowing.
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225. God will not call you to account for thoughtlessness in your oaths, but will hold
you to account for what your hearts have earned; and God is All-forgiving, All-
forbearing.
226. For those who forsake their wives, a waiting for four months is ordained; if they
then change their minds, God is All-forgiving, Compassionate to each.
227. But if they are determined on divorce, God is All-hearing and All-knowing.
228. Divorced women shall refrain from remarriage for three menstrual cycles. Nor is it
lawful for them to hide what God has created in their wombs, if they truly believe
in God and the Last Day. And their husbands have the better right to take them
back in that period, if they desire reconciliation. And women have the selfsame
rights in conformity with fairness, but men are a grade more responsible than them.
God is Almighty, Wise.
229. Divorce can be uttered twice: and then she must be retained in honour or released
in kindness. It is not lawful for you to take back anything you have given them, ex-
cept when both parties have cause to fear that they would be unable to keep within
the bounds set by God. If you fear that they would be unable to keep to the bounds
of God, there is no blame on either of them if the woman gives back something in
order to free herself. These are the bounds set by God, so do not transgress them.
Whoso transgresses the bounds of God, these indeed are sinners.
230. If he divorces her, she shall not thereafter be lawful to him until she has married
another husband. If the other husband divorces her, no blame attaches to either of
them if they re-unite, provided they feel that they can conform to the bounds of God.
Such are the bounds of God, which He makes plain to those who understand.
231. If you divorce women, and they reach their appointed term, either take them back
in kindness or release them in kindness. Do not hold them back against their will,
or to be vindictive. He who does so wrongs his own soul. Do not make the revela-
tions of God a laughing stock, and remember God’s blessing upon you, and the Book
and Wisdom he has sent down wherewith He edifies and instructs you. Fear God,
and know that God is Omniscient.
232. And when you divorce women, and they reach their appointed term, do not deter
them from marrying their husbands, if they mutually agree on equitable terms.
This is an admonition to everyone who believes in God and the Last Day. This
would be better for you and more pure in heart. God knows, and you know not.
233. The mothers shall suckle their children for two whole years, for those who desire to
complete the term. Upon the father rests the duty of maintenance and clothing, af-
fably granted. No soul is burdened except with what it can bear. No mother shall
be made to suffer because of her child, nor father on account of his child. The same
duty rests upon the heir. If they both decide on weaning, by mutual consent, and
after due consultation, there is no blame on them. If you decide to deliver your
children to a wet-nurse, no blame attaches to you, provided you pay what you have
agreed upon, fairly and affably. Fear God and know that God sees all that you do.
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AL-BAQARA: MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE
234. And if you die and leave widows behind, they shall hold themselves apart for a pe-
riod of four months and ten days: When they reach their appointed term, no blame
shall attach to you regarding what they might honourably do with themselves. God
is well acquainted with what you do.
235. Nor shall any blame attach to you if you allude to a marriage proposal with these
widows or else keep it to yourself. God knows that you shall propose to them. But
do not make promises to them in secret, unless it be in fair and honourable speech.
Do not tie the knot of marriage until the recorded period has reached its term. And
know God knows what is in your hearts. So take heed of Him; and know that God
is All-forgiving, All-forbearing.
236. No blame attaches to you if you divorce women, not having touched them yet or
settled any marriage settlement on them. But provide for them, a rich man what he
can bear, and a poor man what he can bear. Let this be provided fairly and affably
and let this be an obligation upon all who would do good.
237. And if you divorce them, not having touched them yet though having settled upon
them a marriage settlement, then (pay) the half of what you have settled, unless
they forgo this right or else he who holds the knot of marriage in his hand forgoes it.
Yet if you forgo this right, it would be nearer to piety. Do not forget to be generous
to one another: For God sees all that you do.
238. Perform your prayers regularly, especially the Middle Prayer; and stand in God’s
presence in humility and devotion.
239. But if you are in a state of fear, then pray while walking or riding. When you again
feel secure, remember God and how He taught you that which you knew not.
240. Those among you who die and leave widows behind should bequeath their widows
a year Qur’an maintenance and no eviction. But if they leave, then no blame at-
taches to you regarding what they do with themselves, if they do so honourably. God
is Almighty, All-wise.
241. For divorced women maintenance is decreed, fair and affable. This is an obligation
on the righteous.
242. Thus does God make plain His revelations to you: so that you may understand.
Here we have what, at first sight, appear to be a number of disconnected

topics of different moment. Once again, I suggest, we need to think through
the conjunction, the bringing together of these seemingly disparate points, to
find the link. Submitting ourselves to the effort of thinking and questioning
is, as I have argued consistently, the essence of reading, the basic requirement
for understanding. In this passage we are faced with a subject that has become
a vexed issue in Muslim society. And not only in Muslim society; for here we
come to the perennial topic where critics find both Islam and Muslims wanting
in their attitude to and treatment of women. In our time, liberating Muslim
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women has even been made into a justification of war! Therefore, in light of
all the fury and drivel as well as the depressing evidence of what Muslims jus-
tify in the name of their religion, might I suggest we all take a deep breath. We
all come to reading with our own ideas and experience, along with all the
assumptions, prejudices and predilections that includes. Too often we read
through and with these assumptions to hear, confirm and understand the ideas
with which we began. My emphasis in approaching the Qur’an is precisely the
opposite.
Submitting ourselves to the Qur’an should mean testing and interrogating
all our ideas and experiences afresh. Specifically, we need to approach these
verses not through the perspective of what we know of Shari‘a, Islamic law,
and how it has been interpreted and practised by Muslims in history as well as
today in different parts of the Muslim world. The questions we should be ask-
ing are whether what we now know of the Shari‘a constitutes the only way
these verses can be read. We should be asking whether the patriarchal and often
misogynist attitudes of most Muslims actually match up to what the Qur’an
says. Has Muslim society, and especially its learned scholars, interpreted the
Qur’an to suit attitudes already prevalent in society? Have the customs and
ideas of other times and places been inveigled into or overlaid upon what the
Qur’an itself says? Are we in fact dealing with a certifiable example of Muslims
falling into the pitfalls of interpretation and distortion that the Qur’an so
clearly warns against?
There are those who read these verses with a degree of feminist indignation.
I would not suggest there is no cause for indignation. However, it is necessary
to look at the words used and not invest them with innate offensiveness and
knee-jerk reaction. The semantic implications and the resonance of words
seamlessly stir our own social conditioning on subjects such as pure and
impure, normal and abnormal, what is respectful and what is demeaning.
Reading the Qur’an is about getting beyond these blinkers as far as our intel-
ligence and diligence will permit.
These verses move from drinking and gaming to treatment of orphans, suit-
able marriage partners, questions of divorce, to making oaths and matters of
inheritance—quite a range. But I would argue that the first topic, drinking
and gaming, gives a powerful clue to the consistent theme. The key, I suggest
is intoxication, things which stir the passions and yet also by their very nature
cloud the judgement. Questions of marriage and divorce, like all the other top-
ics here, bring human passions into play. An oath, for example, can be uttered
in the heat of the moment. So consistently, in each instance, we are guided to
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the need to make clear-headed, sober judgements, the kind that lead to justice
and equity for all concerned.
The Qur’an repeatedly moves from soaring expressions of spiritual verities
to details of mundane human behaviour. A full appreciation of our relationship
to God is, as the Qur’an has been saying from the very beginning, found in how
we act upon and live out God consciousness in all the aspects of our daily life.
Worship is expressed not just in prayer but also in how we deal with mundane
activity. It requires finding the right balance in all our activities, not being
intoxicated with our self-interests or passions, but being ever mindful of the
need for clear and sober judgement so that we apply the moral and ethical guid-
ance of the Qur’an as far as we are able in even the smallest aspect of our lives.
Pre-Islamic society in Arabia was into binge drinking. Wines were made in
most households, drinking was seen as a sign of high culture, and drunkenness
was valued as a sign of wealth and eminence. Gambling was a close second to
drinking. A popular method used for gambling involved throwing a jumble of
arrows which were used to draw lots. Each arrow defined a share, from zero to
three or four. The person who drew nought had to buy a camel, which was
slaughtered, and the meat distributed according to the shares drawn by each
participant. Like drinking, gambling too was seen as a source of pride and
honour. Given that tribal Arabs valued pride and honour above all, it is not
surprising that gambling and drinking led to excess. Both habits contributed
to perpetual tribal feuds and constant wars.
The Qur’an sought to transform Arab society; and the whole of this passage
is devoted to aspects of social transformation. Verse 219 is the first time the
Qur’an mentions drinking and gambling; and it is worth noting that it
acknowledges there is ‘some profit’ in both. But the social costs are greater: for
a society to prosper and progress, drinking and gambling had to be abandoned.
The injunction forbidding these comes later, in 5:90, which asks Muslims to
shun them in order to be ‘successful’. But from the specific example we should
draw a more general principle. It is not just wine that is to be avoided on these
grounds: all variety of intoxicants are included, from liquor to drugs, hard or
soft, that affect the mind and hence the ability to make balanced judgements.
Similarly, gambling would include all games of chance—including the national
lottery. Both, we learn in 5:91, cause ‘enmity and hatred to spring in your
mind’; and, as such, thwart the development of genuine prosperity and well-
being. The total transformation of Arab society after the emergence of Islam,
I think, was in significant part due to this prohibition. It allowed the noble
aspect of the Arab character, their industrious and intrepid nature, their cour-
age and frankness, to come to the fore.
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A particular consequence of unending fighting and warfare in Arab society

was that many children were left orphans. So the Qur’an moves immediately
to the care of orphans, who must be looked after in a manner that is ‘for their
good’. Orphans should not be treated as a separate class, as they usually had
been, but as equals: ‘your brethren’. They should not be left to live on the char-
ity of others, but should be an integral part of a family. Guardianship of
orphans, taking them into one’s family and care, which involves taking respon-
sibility for their rights to property and inheritance, must be dealt with hon-
estly. When we think of how much of literature down the ages, and in so many
societies, deals with stories of orphans deprived of their birthright, the prin-
ciple is obviously of universal relevance. The intoxicating prospect of access to
someone else’s wealth is to be resisted.
We then move on to marriage and divorce, another important area for social
transformation. The pre-Islamic Arabs had a number of rather strange marriage
customs. Men married frequently, taking as many wives as they liked, and
would dispose of their children if they could not provide for them. Divorce
was easy and frequent, and having set aside a wife a man might then remarry
her. The Qur’an tells them not to make a habit of this; marrying a woman twice
is enough. There was another prevailing practice: men would swear oaths to
abstain from sex with their wives, thus leaving them in limbo: they would nei-
ther be divorced and free to remarry nor be treated as proper wives. Some
women could pass their entire life in such bondage. The Qur’an tells these
men that after four months of abstention they should consider themselves
divorced—or re-establish conjugal relationships (224–7). There was also a
tradition of provisional divorce: a woman could be divorced for a short period
and then taken back. The Qur’an tells these men to make up their mind, ‘either
keep or release them in a fair manner’.
As we have noted so often before, the Qur’an deals with the real and actual
conditions of the time when it was first revealed and of the society to which
it was revealed. In our reading we have to take account of the practices and
attitudes it was seeking to change. And from the nature and means of trans-
formation it sets out we need to look for the moral and ethical principles, the
consistent values which can be applied to any society at any time in history,
which is another way of saying we need to identify the values with which to
interrogate our own experience, ideas and prejudices.
The principles the Qur’an introduces as a catalyst for social transformation
all work to establish balance and bring about greater justice and equity in
human behaviour. We can summarise these as:
166
1. Husbands and wives have the same rights: ‘And women have the selfsame
rights in conformity with fairness’. (228)
2. Divorce is not necessarily a bad thing, but it should be an amicable affair,
and women have an absolute right to divorce, without giving any reasons:
‘there is no blame on either of them if the woman gives back something in
order to free herself ’. (229)
3. To ascertain a possible pregnancy, and hence the parentage of the child,
divorced women should wait before taking a new partner: ‘Divorced
women shall refrain from remarriage for three menstrual cycles.’ (228)
4. Divorced women are entitled to alimony: ‘For divorced women mainte-
nance is decreed, fair and affable.’ (241)
5. Widowed women should have arrangements made for their welfare by their
husbands: ‘bequeath their widows a year’s maintenance and no eviction’.
(240)
6. Mothers should breastfeed their children for two years: ‘Upon the father
rests the duty of maintenance and clothing, affably granted.’ (233)
All these reforms were introduced into a society where the majority of
women had no free will. Verse 221 clearly suggests that in the task of trans-
forming society, those who believe in the new course of action are better suited
and able to support each other. Clearly both have equal responsibilities in mak-
ing the practical, conceptual and moral change that must occur. Those who
have invested commitment in faith and the new ways of living that it demands
are more natural companions and helpmates, more likely to abide by the limits
it sets and the outlook on life it requires. The sharing of the obligations and
responsibilities of society by men and women is a recurrent feature of the
Qur’an. Many verses are addressed to the ‘believing men and the believing
women’ or the ‘believing women and the believing men’, not as separate catego-
ries but bracketed together in a mutual task, because no society can function
properly unless it uses the talents and potential of all its citizens; clearly, a les-
son too many Muslim societies, now and in history, have chosen to ignore! The
classical commentators regard the reference to ‘slave’ or ‘bond’ person, depend-
ing on the translation, as being in the sense of the name Abdullah, which liter-
ally means ‘slave of Allah’. Just like the marriage practices mentioned above,
the institution of slavery existed in Arabia, and the Qur’an had a clear, bal-
anced, transformative position on the subject, like every other injustice.
All of the regulations arising from marriage and divorce work to ensure
equity and fair dealing in what is the most basic of human relationships. It is
perfectly clear that the Qur’an regards marriage as a basic institution of society,
167
the foundation of its prime building block, the family. In marriage, as every-
thing else, the emphasis is on equitable fair dealing and the need for kindness
and affability by both parties. Marriage is an intense relationship, and the
Qur’an does not expect it will always work. The dissolution of a relationship,
with divorce, is where passions get most heated, and most particularly where
there should be fair dealing which is equitable to the interests of both parties.
However, there seems to be an underlying point of great significance working
throughout this passage: the right of the individual not only to fair provision
but to their individual identity and their freedom to make choices about their
own lives. This links the regulations for the treatment of orphans, of women
in marriage and divorce, as well as the children of divorced couples. Decisions
made on behalf of orphans should respect the integrity of their birthright, not
dissolve their identity and property in that of their new guardians. Women
have a right to a marriage portion, their dowry, as well as to maintenance in
the event of divorce. The paternity of a child should also be clear. Children
have a right to know who their parents are, not least since they will have a claim
on both their mother and biological father. Hence the need for women not to
remarry until it is evident whether they are pregnant or not, which applies both
to divorce and widowhood. It seems to me the specific mention of mainte-
nance for women who are breastfeeding relates to divorced women. The claim
is on the biological father to accept responsibility for the needs not just of his
child but also its mother on whom the child is totally dependent. However, it
would seem that a mother can decide not to complete the two years of breast-
feeding. The clear principle is that ‘no mother shall be made to suffer because
of her child, nor father on account of his child’. And this applies through all
the varied permutations of actual human relationships that might arise, in mar-
riage, divorce or widowhood. It is the principle that matters, and we have to
find a way to apply it through all the changing circumstances of time and social
conditions.
Verse 228 in many translations is given as men being ‘a degree’ above women.
A great deal rests on the interpretation and emphasis given to this statement.
It cannot be wished away, it must be discussed. The subject of verse 228 con-
cerns a woman waiting three months after a divorce, during which time she
may or may not be found to be pregnant, and at which point the divorce
becomes final. The Qur’an suggests that ‘their husbands would do better to
take them back during this period’, if they wish to do the right thing. Both
husband and wife have the right to annul the marriage, but, as Asad notes,
‘since it is the husband who is responsible for the maintenance of the family,
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the first option to rescind a provisional divorce rests with him’ [18]. The verse
is simply making a statement of fact about the social conditions of the time.
However, it can be read another way: the husband has a degree of edge because
during those three months he can remarry. Either way, this is not an ontologi-
cal statement about the status of men and women. It is a very specific reference
to the role of men in divorce in Arabia during the Prophet’s times. And it
carries two implications: first, that while divorce is permissible it is not
commended; and second, that children are best reared with and by their natu-
ral parents.
There is all the difference in the world between reading passages or extracts
within the context of the entire Book and taking one reference out of its spe-
cific context and universalising its implications. I would be the first to acknowl-
edge that the latter is exactly what far too many Muslims have done, to the
detriment of women and Muslim society as a whole. The only antidote to such
misogynistic nonsense is to read the Qur’an as a whole. As we shall have cause
to discuss in more detail later, the idea of men being a degree above women is
consistently contradicted by the totality of the Book. The issue evaporates in
the sense I have made from reading various translations and commentaries that
clearly refer the words to the context of the burden of ongoing financial
responsibility in circumstances where both parties retain individual choice and
freedom to decide. ‘And women have the selfsame rights in conformity with
fairness, but men are a grade more responsible than them.’
A slightly different aspect of the same kind of controversy relates to the
simile in verse 223. Here in some translations wives are likened to ‘fields’ or, as
Yusuf Ali translates it, ‘tilth’, the form I follow. I take the simile to mean that
women, like ‘mother earth’, are good at nurturing humanity: they not only
endure hardship during childbirth but also breastfeed and nourish their chil-
dren, keep the family together, and are the repository of some of the most
humane (or feminine, if you like) values of society. Just like the earth, they bear
fruit, cultivate civilisation, and need to be approached with love, attention and
respect. In an agrarian economy, society holds as self-evident the importance
and value of nurturing, taking great care with, husbanding in another sense
one’s fields or tilth. In a desert environment the fields and date groves of towns
and oases are even more precious, hard won and hence deserving of care and
attention. To me this seems to heighten the significance and meaning attached
to the kindness and affability, as well as the justice and equity, due to women.
In the context of time and place, women are likened to the most precious
resource that society has at its disposal, rather than being referred to in a deni-
169
grating and demeaning way. And we should not forget that, whether translated
as ‘go into your fields whichever way you like’ or, as the sense I have made of
it, ‘so approach your tilth as you desire’, it is bracketed with the reminder to
‘send good deeds before you for your souls’. The intoxication of passion and
human desire never obviates the need for remembering the spiritual balance
that must be appreciated in all things.
Apparently ‘go into your fields whichever way you like’ has another con-
notation altogether. Haleem provides a rather bizarre footnote to this verse:
‘when the Muslims emigrated to Medina, they heard from the Jews that a child
born from a woman approached from behind would have a squint’ [19]. So,
the suggestion is that the Qur’an provides the Muslims with assurance that this
is not so!
The classical commentators have discussed the issue of ‘approaching from
behind’ in some detail. Al-Tabari, for example, furnishes us with many opin-
ions, concluding with his own that anal sex is forbidden as vaginal sex is the
only way to conceive. The classical commentators also provide us with a reason
why this verse was revealed. A rather feisty and liberated woman of Meccan
origin asked the Prophet, through one of his wives: was ‘sex from behind
acceptable?’ The question arose, apparently, because this practice was quite
common among the Quraysh in Mecca but unknown to (the original) inhabit-
ants of Medina. She seems to have got a positive answer!
However, I don’t think it is as clear cut as this. When it comes to marriage,
the Qur’an emphasises the equality of both partners. And that equality con-
tinues when it comes to sex: the desires of both partners have to be taken into
consideration. I certainly don’t find any problem with this passage. If we are
prepared to think beyond the historical and cultural blinkers and not impose
our own hang-ups on the words of the Qur’an, a healthy, mutual and balanced
sexual life becomes part and parcel of the good life, and why would one want
to argue with that?
The subject of menstruation (v.222), about which the Qur’an is a great deal
more up-front and open than has been the norm in Western society, is another
subject of controversy. Here we are faced with another problem of translation,
in particular Yusuf Ali’s translation which describes menstruation as ‘pollution’.
Indeed, Ali’s translation of most verses in this passage is problematic; and his
footnotes are particularly misogynist. Pickthall suggests it is an ‘illness’, which
does not take us very far either. Asad describes menstruation as a ‘vulnerable
condition’. Haleem gives it as: ‘Say, menstruation is a painful condition.’ Hal-
eem’s version suggests the verse is trying to point out that sex during menstrua-
170
tion can be painful for some women and it is thus best avoided. This reading
might seem to be borne out by other references elsewhere in the Qur’an; for
example menstruating women for the duration of their period, along with
pregnant women and breastfeeding mothers, are not required to fast during
Ramadan. It is because of the wider connotations of menstruation being brack-
eted with pregnancy and breastfeeding that in the end I determined to go with
‘vulnerable condition’ since there are a host of various health and well-being
issues associated with menstruation.
I think the verse does two things: first, it openly acknowledges the biologi-
cal nature of women; and second, it brings forward the themes of consider-
ation and kindness, of dealing fairly with women’s concerns, which run through
all the verses dealing with marriage and divorce in this passage. What can never
be tolerated is using the God-created biological nature of women as a rationale
for making them somehow less worthy, indeed less ‘religious’ than men, which
unfortunately is the kind of nonsense one too often hears from traditional
scholars and repeated by far too many Muslim men, to their vast demerit.
Misogyny is inveterate as well as inventive in working its pernicious hold on
society. A sensible reading of the books of Hadith collections of the sayings of
the Prophet is a worthwhile antidote; they are a secondary source for under-
standing the Qur’an, and all contain sections devoted to menstruation. They
show conclusively that women, far from regarding menstruation as something
which prejudiced them in terms of religion, took an active interest in how their
religion recognised the totality of their biological nature. Equally, these ques-
tion and answer sessions with the Prophet show how women were concerned
to establish how they could carry out their duties and obligations in the full-
ness of their biological identity.
There is one other point that has to be dealt with. How are the words ‘clean’
and ‘cleansed’ to be interpreted? For many readers this is a further example of
the pollution/purity problem. I would suggest that this predicament comes
from thinking through cultural assumptions rather than rather obvious fact.
Other religions, including Judaism and Catholicism, have elaborate doctrine
and ritual with particular reference to menstruation. A great deal of this doc-
trine can be traced to the interpretative superstructure built on the story of
Eve as the temptress who caused Adam to fall from grace. As we have already
seen, the Qur’an’s rendering of the story has no such implication. Mrs Adam,
like her husband, sinned, was forgiven and is born into the world sinless and
pure, which includes her female biology. And this is the conceptual status of
all human beings as far as the Qur’an, and Muslim opinion, is concerned. But
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the history of interpretation in other religions creates an instant sensitivity

which can cause impassioned reactions to particular words. In keeping with
the principles being commended in this passage, therefore, I would suggest a
calm and clear use of reason. Consider a society without the modern aids of
sanitary provision, especially for women’s particular needs; only very few stud-
ies even by female anthropologists venture to consider such matters, but when
they do their findings make a world of difference [20]. The logical outcome of
such a thought, however much I blush, is that ‘clean’ and ‘cleansed’ have a per-
fectly ordinary, sensible and innocent literal meaning.
It is undoubtedly the case that male readings of the Qur’an have predomi-
nated in history. But, thankfully, in recent times women’s readings have re-
emerged, and what characterises them is their confidence and security. You
will find no suggestion that they feel charged with ‘pollution’, let alone second-
class personhood. Indeed, it is not only women scholars but Muslim women
in general who defy and disown all the fabrications of misogyny that have been
foisted on them by male Muslim ‘scholars’. The trouble is that women’s sense
of self-worth, the strength they take from the Qur’an, is no guarantee that in
the real world of Muslim custom and practice they get the fair and equitable
treatment that is their right according to the provisions laid down in the
Qur’an. Muslim women are forever being told by the ulama, the scholars, that
in Islam they have an exalted status, a supremely important role and numerous
rights, such as to personal property, withheld from women in other religious
and social systems; and yet despite all that, they are on the receiving end of far
worse than is their due. It is on the basis of full recognition of the nature and
needs of women that the Qur’an seeks to build companionship, mutuality and
fair dealing in consideration, kindness and affability as the basis for marriage,
divorce, indeed all aspects of relations between men and women. Those are
the principles on which we need to operate today.
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AL-BAQARA
QUALITIES OF LEADERSHIP
243. Have you not reflected upon those who left their houses, in their thousands, for fear
of death? And how God said to them ‘Die’, then brought them back to life? God is
bountiful to humankind, but most of humankind will not render thanks.
244. Then fight in the cause of God, and remember that God is All-hearing, All-
knowing.
245. Who shall be the one who offers up to God a handsome loan, which God shall mul-
tiply for him many times? It is God who holds back or gives in abundance, and to
Him you shall return.
246. Have you not reflected upon the notables of the Children of Israel when, after the
days of Moses, they said to a prophet among them: ‘Appoint for us a king that we
may fight in the cause of God’? He said: ‘Do you promise, if fighting is enjoined
upon you, that you will fight?’ They said: ‘What prevents us from fighting when we
have been driven out of our homes along with our children?’ Yet when fighting was
enjoined on them, they turned away, all but a few of them. God has full knowledge
of those who do wrong.
247. Then their Prophet said to them: ‘God has appointed for you Saul as king.’ They
said: ‘Why should he reign over us when we have a better claim to kingship than he
does, nor has he been granted abundance of wealth?’ He said: ‘God has chosen over
you, and increased him abundantly in knowledge and bodily prowess. God grants
rule to whomsoever He wills. God is All-encompassing, All-knowing.’
248. Their Prophet said to them: ‘The sign of his kingship is that the Ark will come to
you in which there is tranquillity from your Lord, and a relic from the family of
Moses and the family of Aaron, borne by angels. In this is a sign for you if you are
true believers.’
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249. When Saul set out with his soldiers, he said: ‘God is about to test you at a river.
Whoever drinks from it is not my follower, whoever drinks not is my follower, save
one who scoops a scoop with his hand.’ They drank from it, all but a few of them.
When he passed across the river, he and those who believed with him, they said:
‘We have no might today against Goliath and his troops.’ Those who believed they
would meet God said: ‘How often a small force has overcome a numerous force, by
God’s leave, and God is with those who stand fast.’
250. When they came out to do battle against Goliath and his troops, they said: ‘Our
Lord! Pour down steadfastness upon us and make our feet firm and grant us victory
over the host of unbelievers.’
251. So they defeated them by God’s leave, and David killed Goliath; and God granted
him kingship and wisdom and taught him what He willed. Had God not re-
strained humankind, some by means of others, corruption would surely overwhelm
the earth. But God is limitless in His bounty to all the worlds.
252. These are the revelations of God, which We recite to you in truth. And you are
indeed one of the messengers.
253. Some of these apostles We have endowed more highly than others; of their number
there are some to whom God spoke and He raised in some degree. And we bestowed
clear wonders upon Jesus the son of Mary, and strengthened him with the Holy
Spirit. And if God had so willed, succeeding generations would not have fought
each other once revelations had come to them. But they fell into dissension, and
some of them believed and some disbelieved. And if God had so willed, they would
not have fought each other; but God does what He wills.
254. O you who believe! Spend out of what We have provided for you, before a Day
comes when there will be no bargaining, nor friendship nor intercession. The unbe-
lievers are the evildoers indeed.
As we have already discussed, the Qur’an provides a message of continuity

expressed in its many references to narratives, personalities and prophets that
are familiar from the Bible. In each instance these references are used to dem-
onstrate that possessing Divine guidance is one thing; preserving it, imple-
menting it and living by it are other matters. Human beings are flawed, prone
to error and can find innumerable ways of circumventing or diverting God’s
good news to serve their own short-sighted ends. These references to the past
are not mere history; they stand as cautionary warnings of the challenges that
will face the Muslim community in seeking to build, as well as successive gen-
erations of Muslims up to our own day and into the future.
This passage tells the story of Moses’ flight from Egypt, thus reintroducing
once again the themes of oppression, migration and fighting for survival, which
have already been discussed. The ‘thousands’ mentioned in verse 243 are the
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Children of Israel who were forced to leave their homes because of persecution
and fear of death. The Qur’an tells this story, and the stories of Talut/Saul and
David and Goliath that follow, as short parables, assuming familiarity with the
details and using the known narrative to highlight a particular moral.
Moses and his followers were in a double bind. The state of bondage in
which they were kept in Egypt was a metaphorical death, a slow intellectual
and spiritual strangulation. This is the underlying meaning the Qur’an consis-
tently gives to oppression and persecution. They also faced real death: orders
had been given for their male offspring to be put to death. Moses tries to per-
suade them to enter the Holy Land but they refuse. The Israelites end up wan-
dering the wilderness, looking for an alternative home. On God’s command,
Moses orders them to fight and drive the Canaanites out of Palestine. But they
refused to fight; and as a result, a whole generation perishes in the desert. But
the next generation overcomes the Canaanites, finds the Promised Land and,
in this sense, the Israelites are ‘brought back to life again’.
This passage also continues the theme of social transformation. The story
of Moses is related to show that sometimes it becomes necessary to stand up
to oppression, when people are ‘torn from our homes and our children’. There
are circumstances when the refusal to challenge oppression is not a viable
option. The story is meant as a warning to Muslims who had been driven out
of Mecca and had been living in exile in Medina for about a year. The Qur’an
repeatedly acknowledges the reluctance of some Muslims to resort to fighting,
as we saw in an earlier discussion. Fighting, war is a ‘heinous thing’; but ‘per-
secution is worse than slaughter’, it is the conceptual and metaphorical death
of a people. So, here the Qur’an uses this parable: follow in the footsteps of
the Israelites and you will have the same fate. To safeguard your future, indeed
to survive, there is no alternative but to give a ‘good loan’ to God (v.245): that
is, sacrifice your wealth, and ‘fight in the cause of God’ (v.244).
The brief mention of Moses is followed by the story of Talut, mentioned in
verse 247, who is thought to be Saul of the Bible. The story in the Qur’an is
not much different from the Bible narrative in 1 Samuel 8:19–20. The Israel-
ites beseech a ‘prophet among them’ to ‘appoint for us a king, that we may fight
in the cause of God’. Their wish is granted. Saul is appointed by God as their
ruler. Then two things happen. First, despite having been driven out of their
homes along with their children, the Israelites refuse to fight their oppressors.
Second, they quibble about Saul’s qualifications to reign over them. Both mat-
ters raise the question of leadership.
In the first instance, we have to consider how the request for leadership
comes about. We are told that the Israelites demand the appointment of a
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leader from a prophet who is among them. Prophets, as we are told throughout
the Qur’an, are messengers and warners sent by God to remind humanity of
their duties to God. The Israelites are clearly facing a dire situation. They are
subject to oppression and persecution. We are told they are specifically asked
whether, if a leader is appointed for them, they will promise: ‘if fighting is
enjoined upon you, that you will fight?’ So in one sense the community is look-
ing for a leader to take responsibility for difficult decisions which they could,
and perhaps should, have the means to make for themselves. The purpose of
revelation, as we have seen so often, is to make clear the duty of believers to
confront and eradicate injustice, even if in the final analysis that means fight-
ing. We have discussed that ‘fighting in the cause of God’ is legitimate only in
defence, when subject to aggression. It is a concept that has a more extensive
meaning than armed conflict, but there are times when this becomes unavoid-
able. So the question ‘Who shall be the one who offers up to God a handsome
loan…?’ is not something to be delegated to a leader, but an option that, when
circumstances demand, can and should be answered by all members of the
community. While it is far easier to be led, to be told what to do, in fact the
message of God and the judgement of what is necessary in particular circum-
stances should be evident to all.
The second point about leadership is that even after pleading for a leader to
be appointed and being told that ‘God has appointed for you Saul as king’ the
Israelites were not satisfied with the choice. They question Saul’s appointment:
how can he be our leader, they say, when he is not even wealthy, nor has the
social status to rule over us? The moral here is explicit: it is not wealth or power
or social status but intellectual and physical capabilities that should be used to
judge who is and who is not fit to rule.
Talut/Saul’s appointment does not mean that rulers are appointed by God.
Of course, ‘God grants rule to whomsoever He wills’ (v.247): but to do that
He does not have to tell us specifically who our political leaders should be.
Rather, we are told the criteria by which we should select our leaders. Else-
where in the Qur’an, we read that we should put our trust in those who are
worthy of such trust (4:58); we should choose our political leaders carefully
and ensure they are capable of delivering the goods in terms of justice and
equity. One of the key concepts of the Qur’an, shura, I think has a direct link
with democracy. The believers, we read in 42:38, respond to their God not just
by keeping up their prayers, but they also ‘conduct their affairs by mutual con-
sultation’. Shura, or mutual consultation, is how political authority is acquired
in ‘a community of the middle way’, and how God grants authority to whom-
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AL-BAQARA: QUALITIES OF LEADERSHIP
soever He pleases. There is a collective responsibility on each individual within

the community to share the duties and obligations of decision-making; just as,
having selected a leader, there is an obligation on the community to follow that
leader in doing what is right and may be necessary in difficult circumstances.
I will have much more to say about Islam and democracy later. But it should
suffice here to state that the Qur’an does not look at the powerful and the
unjust with much favour. This is also evident from all that we have learned so
far about virtue, oppression, equity and the middle community. Thus, the sug-
gestion that the powerful can lay claim to political legitimacy simply by virtue
of their power is, in my opinion, a totally untenable position.
That the powerful have little legitimacy is also clear from the next story:
that of David and Goliath. The powerful tend to end up spreading tyranny and
strife and driving people from their homes; and, as the parable emphasises yet
again, it becomes necessary for the weak to stand up to them to restore order
and justice. Saul warns them that they are to be tested and not to drink from
a river, which represents the allures of ease. The weak among them drink and
then declare: ‘We have no might today against Goliath and his troops.’
Whereas we see that those who believe recognise that it is not the size of their
army but the strength of their convictions, the rightness and justice of their
cause, that are crucial. In difficult circumstances believers have to rely on
patience, steadfastness and wisdom as their instruments for subduing the
powerful.
It is worth noting that when Saul became king he went through a transfor-
mation himself. A sign of his authority was the gift of tranquillity, or ‘security’
as Yusuf Ali translates it, which he received from God (v.248). The Bible sug-
gests this was a transformation of the heart: ‘As Saul turned to leave Samuel,
God changed Saul’s heart’ (1 Samuel 10:10). Significantly, the Qur’an locates
tranquillity not in the mind but in the heart: ‘It is He Who sent down tran-
quillity into the hearts of the believers that they may add faith to their faith’
(48:4). When the mind has had its say and all is said and done, faith finds its
location in the heart. It is a tranquil heart that engenders sincerity, humility,
respect, courage and all the other virtues necessary for the exercise of power.
The Qur’an seems to be saying that the ultimate function of power, political
and otherwise, is to free the world from oppression and strife, and bring it
‘back to life again’ by restoring peace and tranquillity.
The passage ends with a crucial reference to dissension and division of opin-
ion, which follows previous revelations to other prophets and suggests that
such division is a human characteristic; one that Muslims in history have not
177
been spared. What is suggested in verse 253 is that divergence of opinion

among human communities is part and parcel of the process; it does not pre-
clude people attaining to faith, in history or now, but it is a test that people
can fail. We are free to disagree, but we bear responsibility for the consequences
of dissension, as much as for the choices we make through free and open
debate. It is not the difference of opinion we should be concerned with, but
how we make choices among and between such differences of opinion, how
we select the best path among the divergent views. There is all the difference
in the world between differences of opinion, without which and through
which a consensus is formed, and dissension, which by definition denies the
need or possibility of achieving consensus.
In conclusion, all believers are called on to ‘spend out of what We have pro-
vided for you’. We have met this concept before. On the Day of Reckoning
there will be ‘no bargaining, nor friendship nor intercession’; each will have to
answer for the choices and decisions they made. In the context of a discussion
of the appointment of leaders and then of the endowment of apostles, it is
quite clear that shifting responsibility to them will not do anyone any good. It
is human beings who have interpreted, responded to or distorted and deformed
the messages brought by apostles of God. It is human beings who have to be
steadfast and determined in following the straight path of righteous deeds,
whether well-led or not. It is, in the final analysis, not a question of leadership.
What will be judged is the quality of individual commitment by each and every
citizen to work to create a community of the middle way. Working together
in consultation is not about being led, but about understanding and holding
to values and principles, doing good deeds, spending our efforts and accepting
individual accountability for our responsibility to make the world a better
place.
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23
AL-BAQARA
MAJESTY OF GOD AND FREEDOM OF RELIGION
255. God. There is no God but He, the Living, the Everlasting. Neither slumber seizes
Him nor sleep. To Him belongs all that is in the heavens and on earth. Who is there
shall intercede with Him, save by His leave? He knows all that lies before them and
what is after them. Nor can they grasp aught of His knowledge, except as He wills.
His Throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and upholding them wearies
Him not. He is the Most High, the Sublime.
256. There is no compulsion in religion: Truth stands out clear from Error: whoever
rejects evil and believes in God has grasped the most trustworthy handhold, that
never breaks, for God is All-hearing, All-knowing.
257. God is the Protector of the believers: He leads them from the depths of darkness
into light. As for those who disbelieve, their patrons are idols that bring them out of
light into the depths of darkness. These are the rightful owners of the Fire, they will
abide therein forever.
Here we come to the passage that for me is the heart and soul of the Qur’an.
It begins with the verse that is second only to al-Fatiha in familiarity to Mus-
lims. Known as Ayat al Kursi, the Throne verse, it was considered by classical
commentators to be the most excellent verse in the Qur’an. It is a popular sub-
ject for calligraphy, and in a great diversity of calligraphic forms finds a place
on display in millions of Muslim homes around the world. And yet it is the
juxtaposition of al Kursi and the following verse that for me encapsulates the
essence of the Islamic worldview.
Ayat al Kursi is the most beautiful statement of the power and majesty of
the Almighty. It reveals God as the creative and sustaining force behind all
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existence, the Divine who is all-knowing and always aware, a ceaseless, unwea-
rying presence conscious of each individual in all their activities: what we show
as well as what we conceal, what has happened to us and what awaits us. Such
power and majesty can only be made evident to human beings by God alone.
It is only by God’s will that we can come to know the Divine that is far beyond
human consciousness or capability.
Knowledge is a crucial aspect of the Divine. And the emphasis throughout
the Qur’an on God’s knowledge is reflected again and again in the impetus
this gives to the exercise of human intellect to understand and appreciate better
both God’s creation and the meaning and operation of God’s guidance to
humankind. The use of reason is essential to making the right decisions, mak-
ing the right qualitative judgements on how to act in this world and how to
distinguish right from wrong. The word Kursi means throne, but in Muslim
thought and parlance it has become inseparable from the concept of knowl-
edge. Knowledgeable and learned people are referred to as ‘People of the
Chair’, and this is the origin of the professorial ‘chair’. Many of the terms we
associate with universities derive from Arabic, a legacy of the institution’s ori-
gin in Muslim civilisation, from which it was borrowed wholesale by European
society during the Middle Ages.
But what truly takes my breath away is what immediately follows this most
ringing evocation of the Divine: ‘let there be no compulsion in religion’. It is
the most profound declarative statement in the Qur’an. It is not the business
of any human being to coerce another in matters of faith or religion. The all-
powerful gives us complete freedom to believe or not believe, to follow what-
ever religion we choose. The ability to attain to faith is innate in human nature,
and the means to attain faith is provided by revelation. Only our willing,
informed convincement is the true measure of God consciousness. By implica-
tion, for individuals or society to coerce people is to interfere with and arrogate
to themselves authority over a relationship which can exist only between God
and each individual soul.
What is being made clear, it seems to me, is that God is beyond any need or
requirement. God does not need worshippers; it is human beings who need
consciousness of God. Faith and religion, we are told, are based on recognising
the distinction between truth and error; they are an exercise of reason and
intellect, a work of knowledge as well as of spirit. Willing, informed and rea-
soned belief is laying hold of ‘the most secure handhold that never breaks’, a
phrase I find the most liberating, empowering and comforting in the Qur’an.
Religion that is free from all coercion refers to belief in God as embodied
in the verse of the Throne. The word for religion, and Islam’s own self-descrip-
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tion, is deen. As these verses make clear, deen is a way of knowing, being and
doing, a way of life. What is more, this way of living, based on God conscious-
ness, brings God near to us, it illuminates our lives.
Muslims frequently say that religion, their deen, is a total way of life. What
this means is that just as belief in God is a free, informed choice, so the conse-
quence of belief is about making choices about seeking what is best for oneself,
one’s family, for society, for the whole of humanity and the world, in all aspects
and actions of daily life. And part of living one’s deen, since we cannot live in
splendid isolation, is seeking out and working for the free, willing collaboration
of other people in the project of making the world the best possible place we
can. A reflection of this is that the Arabic word for city, the concentration of
human cohabitation, is medina, from the root deen. It was the new name given
to Yathrib after Prophet Muhammad migrated there from Mecca and began
to organise the new religion.
Community organised by consent of the governed, it seems to me, follows
from the proposition of religion as a way of life embraced by the consent of
free will. The distinctions that illuminate how to live are the values and prin-
ciples revealed by God for human betterment, which we accept as a conse-
quence of faith. In opting for the light we willingly commit ourselves to
working for justice and equity, and put ourselves on the right path.
The word used in this passage for evil is quite interesting: at-taghut. The evil
ones are those who exceed their legitimate limits, and arrogate powers, wealth
and lordship that do not belong to them—leading to arrogance and worship
of other things beside God. Evil is interfering with, distorting and turning to
the wrong ends, the free choices of free individuals. There is little point in say-
ing we have free will if we are not free to exercise the option to abide by the
constraints of moral and ethical behaviour of our own volition. And of our
own volition it is necessary to turn away from the excesses of intoxication with
worldly wealth and power, from arrogance and indulgence, from naked con-
sumerism, especially that which squanders, wastes and despoils the human
spirit and the world in which we live. That is the light that leads us away from
the darkness of ignorance and unconsidered, short-sighted judgements.
I also think it is significant in conjunction with the preceding passage and
its discussion of leadership. God and God’s Word, which we are free to follow
or not, are the real source of leadership and authority. It is the task of freely
consenting individuals to opt to follow this guidance. The task of remaining
loyal to, debating, implementing, adapting and applying this guidance cannot
be delegated to leaders, for that would be to denigrate the freedom we have
181
been given. The task is to find the right balance, the appropriate form of social
organisation where free individuals can, by their willing consent, cooperate
with one another, whatever they believe or don’t believe, to make the world a
better place for all. This is the objective laid out in God’s guidance and the
most profound expression of worship and praise of the Almighty.
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AL-BAQARA
ARGUING WITH GOD
258. Are you not aware of him who argued with Abraham regarding his Lord, because
God had granted him kingship? Abraham said: ‘My Lord is He who gives life and
causes death.’ He answered: ‘I grant life and deal death.’ Said Abraham: ‘God
causes the sun to rise from the East; cause it then to rise from the West.’ Then the
unbeliever was dumbfounded. God guides not the tyrants.
259. Or else like the man who passed by a town, in ruins with its roofs caved in. He
said: ‘How will God bring this back to life, after its death?’ God caused him to die
for a hundred years, then resurrected him. God said: ‘How long did you remain
thus?’ The man replied: ‘A day or part of a day.’ God said: ‘No, you remained thus
a hundred years; but look at your food and drink; they show no signs of age; and
look at your donkey: Thus We shall make you a symbol to humankind. And look
at the bones, how We bring them together and clothe them with flesh.’ So when
this was made clear to him, the man said: ‘I know that God has the power to will
anything.’
260. Remember when Abraham said: ‘My Lord! Show me how You give life to the dead.’
God said: ‘Do you not then believe?’ Abraham said: ‘Yes, but so that my heart can
be at peace.’ God said: ‘Take four birds, and teach them to obey you; then place a
part of them on each hill, then call them. They will come flying to you. Then know
that God is Almighty, Wise.’
At first glance these stories seem unclear. And yet these verses deal with the
most central issues of religion and the most enduring subject of human fascina-
tion. Belief in a Creator is to accept not only that life and death exist, but that
there is a power beyond the natural processes of which we are aware. It not
183
only created life and death as we know them, but can also bring about life after
death. The trouble is the existence of life after death is beyond human percep-
tion and direct knowledge. Nevertheless, being human, we have inordinate
curiosity, an infinite capacity to speculate, theorise and look for proof. There
is even the temptation to think that the knowledge we can accumulate has,
or will eventually enable us to have, power comparable to that of the Creator.
There is no greater mystery in our existence than having faith in the Here-
after. So, perhaps, to expect the explanation to be simple would seem over
optimistic.
I think the Qur’an is making us aware of distinctions, as so often, of different
categories and orders of things we need to differentiate if we are to make sense
of faith as a way of living. There are a couple of points to note here. First, the
words used for life and death, hayat and maut, are as applicable to individuals
as to societies, nations and civilisations, and to flora and fauna. Second, the
parables are not literal; they have a visionary import. The Qur’an lets its readers
engage their minds and imagination to decipher whether the incident being
described is literal or a vision: the context, the nature of the incident and
references to history guide us towards developing an understanding of their
meaning.
The debate between Abraham and the king sets out the distinction between
earthly and divine power, and introduces the concept of zulm, which means
wrong, but is particularly associated with wrong in the sense of tyranny and
corruption. This argument with the king refers us back to the subject of leader-
ship, the theme running through the preceding passages. Abraham makes a
statement of belief: ‘My Sustainer is He who grants life and deals death.’ In
response the king makes a statement of fact: ‘I too grant life and deal death.’
What is the distinction here? Certainly, kings, emperors and governments
command the power of life and death over people. They can empower society
to flourish, or they can cause devastation through war. They can act according
to law, even according to God’s guidance, or they can bend the law, moral or
human, to serve their will and ends. They can ensure that people get the
resources they need to sustain life, or they can misappropriate or withhold
these resources. But however much power an earthly ruler has, it is not the
creative power of the Almighty, the power to call the universe into existence,
to cause the laws of nature to operate and to sustain them endlessly without
effort, as explained in the verse of the Throne.
Ultimately, all earthly powers are subservient to and derivative from the
creative power of the Almighty. And the point of understanding this distinc-
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tion is that kings, emperors and governments are just as much in need of God
consciousness, of abiding by the limits and balance of God’s guidance, as any
individual. Recognising the limits of their power, recognising humility before
the creative, sustaining power of God and God’s ultimate judgement over all
human beings is as necessary to kings as to paupers. No accumulation of and
command over earthly power, power over nations and their people, exonerates
or relieves rulers from responsibility if they do wrong and are guilty of zulm.
It is not only rulers who have to use their judgement. Citizens too have the
right to judge how rulers use their power, for as we have seen in so many previ-
ous passages everyone has a duty to oppose and seek to eradicate the misuse of
power, the tyranny of oppression and persecution which is a demonstration of
earthly power over life and death.
The commentators have suggested that the king arguing with Abraham is
Nimrod, an ancient king, son of Kanan, the arrogant and presumptuous ruler
who built the Tower of Babel. His people would come to him to get food; and
he would ask: ‘Who is your Lord?’ To get food, they had to reply: ‘You are.’
Nimrod was a sun-worshipper. Hence Abraham’s argument: if he had control
over life and death then he could also control his deity, the sun, and make it
rise from the West. Nimrod then becomes ‘dumbfounded’ because he realises
that his assertion is opposed to his own belief. Yet, as with many other charac-
ters referred to in the Qur’an, the identity of the king is not specified. Essen-
tially it is not who he is but the attitudes he typifies that are important. It is
the misguided sense of power and mastery that is significant. In a world suf-
fused with God consciousness, such vainglory has no place, indeed has to be
opposed. Abraham is in fact speaking truth to power, a duty incumbent on all
who believe.
The next section of this passage concerns what might be described as the
rise and fall of empires. This is an idea that occurs frequently throughout the
Qur’an. References to the succession of earthly powers, which flourish, hold
sway and then come to naught, are used as important insights. In this instance,
a man passes by the ruins of a town. He puts me in mind of the tourists who
visit the ruins of Pompeii, or some other ancient site. The man asks that most
human of questions: if all that was so solid, so impressive an expression of
power and mastery, can so visibly crumble and pass into ruin: ‘How could God
bring all this back to life after its death?’ Commentators point out that this is
similar to the story of Prophet Ezekiel as related in Ezekiel 37:1–11, where it
is presented as a vision.
The parable given in answer is not merely that God, the Creator of all things,
including all the laws of nature, can will whatever He chooses. It is also a warn-
185
ing about the delusion of time. We perceive time as well as the power of kings
and empires, cities and civilisations in earthly terms, the terms of our own mor-
tality, which gives us an illusion of permanence. Our perception is constrained
by the limitations of human experience. God deals in eternals, in dimensions
beyond our human perception. The promise of the Hereafter, of returning to
life after death, is not about life as we know it here and now. The God who
created the laws of nature could suspend them. But learning how to live with
and within the normal workings of the laws of nature, rather than asking for
them to be suspended, is the real test of faith; just as it is our preparation for
life in another dimension, the life after death.
And so we return to Abraham, who at the beginning of the passage made
the statement of belief: ‘My Sustainer is He who grants life and deals death.’
Clearly, as a Prophet of God, Abraham was a believer. Yet even he wants incon-
trovertible proof. So he argues with God: ‘My Lord,’ he says, ‘show me how
You give life to the dead.’ God retorts: ‘Do you not believe?’ ‘Yes,’ he replies,
‘but just to put my heart at rest.’ So even though he believes, Abraham still has
a nagging doubt in his heart: he wants knowledge that can be proved. I find
the distinction here fascinating: between knowing as belief and knowing as
provable knowledge.
The classical commentators found this verse to be the most puzzling in all
of the Qur’an. Most suggest that the birds have to be cut up, and their pieces
placed separately on hilltops, if they are to rise from the dead. I think it has
nothing to do with cutting up the birds. I see it in a less perplexing way: on
one level it simply confirms the possibility of doubt, which as we have seen is
an important theme running through sura Al-Baqara. If even a prophet can
doubt and question God, it is little wonder that ordinary human beings do so
too. The answer to Abraham’s question comes as a parable. I take the parable
in its simplest meaning: birds can be trained—like homing pigeons—to return
to their master. What is the Qur’an but a training manual for human nature,
a way to ensure we return to our Master and Maker? As human beings, we
learn how the laws of nature operate and use this knowledge to our benefit and
advantage. But we too are part of the laws of nature; faith is a capacity of our
created human nature, but it is also a capacity that must be trained and exer-
cised to grow strong and fulfil its potential. The word used for birds in this
passage, tair, has other meanings: the cause of good and evil, the source of
misery and happiness, the origin of rise and fall. So the birds, like the birds in
Hitchcock’s famous film of that name, are complex creatures signifying a num-
ber of different ideas.
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AL-BAQARA: ARGUING WITH GOD
Coming as it does after the most exalted expression of the power and maj-
esty of the Almighty, and the declaration of complete human freedom to
believe or not to believe, there is another significance to be drawn from this
passage. The freedom to believe is also the freedom to enquire, ask questions,
to doubt and to think our way through the most difficult and enduring of
earthly problems.
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25
AL-BAQARA
CHARITY AND USURY
261. The likeness of those who spend their wealth in the cause of God is like a grain of
corn which brought forth seven ears, in each ear a hundred grains. God multiplies
his bounty to whom He pleases: and God is Infinite, All-knowing.
262. Those who spend their wealth in the cause of God, and do not follow up what they
spent with reminders of their generosity or causing offence, shall have their reward
with their Lord. No fear shall fall upon them, neither shall they grieve.
263. Kind words and forgiveness are better than charity followed by hurt. God is All-
sufficient, All-forbearing.
264. O you who believe! Render not vain your alms-giving by stressing your own be-
nevolence and causing offence, like one who spends his wealth in order to flaunt
it before people, but believes neither in God nor the Last Day. His likeness is to a
boulder with a little earth upon it: a downpour strikes it leaving it hard and bare.
Such people can do nothing with what they have earned. God guides not those who
are impious.
265. But the likeness of those who spend their wealth, desiring the pleasure of God and
to strengthen their souls, is as a garden on high fertile ground. A downpour strikes
it and it produces double its yield; if not a downpour, then soft rain. God sees full
well all that you do.
266. Would any of you wish to have a garden with date-palms and vines beneath which
rivers flow, and in which are all kinds of fruit, and then be overtaken by old age,
and with only weak children—that it should be caught in a fiery whirlwind, and
burnt up? Thus does God make clear His signs to you; that you may reflect.
267. O you who believe, spend of the good things which you have earned, and from what
We brought forth from the earth for your benefit. Do not give in alms the inferior
189
portion thereof, which you yourselves would not accept except with closed eyes. And
know that God is All-sufficient, All-praiseworthy.
268. Satan promises you poverty and commands you to commit sin. God promises you
His forgiveness and bounties. And God is Infinite, All-knowing.
269. He grants wisdom to whomsoever He wills; and whoever is granted wisdom has
indeed been granted wealth abundant; but none remember except those with un-
derstanding.
270. And whatever you spend on others, whatever vow you take, God knows it. But the
unjust have no helpers.
271. If you make public your free gifts, it is well. But if you conceal them and deliver
them to the poor, that would be best for you, and will atone for some of your ill
deeds. And God is well acquainted with all that you do.
272. It is not required of you (O Messenger) to make people follow the right path. It
is God, rather, who guides whomsoever He wills. And whatever of good you may
spend on others is for your own good, when it is spent seeking the Countenance of
God. Whatever good you spend shall be rendered back to you, and you shall not be
wronged.
273. It should go to the poor, those who are constrained in God’s cause and cannot move
about in the land; an ignorant person would think them rich because of their self-
restraint. You shall know them by their mark: they do not beg from people with
importunity. And whatever good you spend, God knows it well.
274. Those who spend their wealth by night and by day, in secret and in public, shall
have their reward with their Lord. No fear shall fall upon them, neither shall they
grieve.
275. Those who gorge themselves on usury behave as one whom Satan has confounded
with his touch. They say: ‘Buying and selling is but a kind of usury.’ But God has
permitted trade and forbidden usury. Hence, whoever becomes aware of God’s ad-
monition and thereupon desists shall keep his past profits; and his affair is up to
God. But those who relapse, they are destined for the Fire, therein to abide forever.
276. God has blighted usury and blessed free giving with manifold increase. God loves
not the impious lawbreaker.
277. Those who believe, do good works, perform their prayers and pay the poor due shall
have their reward with their Lord. No fear shall fall upon them, neither shall they
grieve.
278. O you who believe, fear God and abandon what remains of usury, if you are true
believers.
279. If you do not, be forewarned of conflict with God and His Messenger. If you repent,
you shall keep the capital of your wealth, neither wronging nor wronged.
280. If a debtor is in difficulties, let there be respite until a time of ease. But if you remit
[the debt] by way of charity, it would be better for you, if only you knew.
190
AL-BAQARA: CHARITY AND USURY
281. Fear a Day in which you shall return to God, when each soul shall be paid back that
which it has earned, and they shall not be wronged.
Once again the Qur’an turns from the sublime and rarefied questions of
faith to the utterly practical and mundane. This passage expands on the neces-
sary requirements to effect communal transformation. It focuses on two agents
of social change, one positive and one negative: charity and usury. And in the
aftermath of a global economic boom and spectacular bust, it has strong con-
temporary relevance.
The Qur’an is concerned that we understand the nature and purpose of
charity: there are right and wrong ways in which it can be dispensed. For
believers, it is an ‘affirmation of their own faith’. Charity is accepting an obliga-
tion towards and responsibility for the living conditions of our fellow citizens,
our fellow human beings. The most fundamental basis of the Qur’anic vision
is that we cannot be good in isolation. As demonstrated in so many contexts
in sura Al-Baqara, the real affirmation of faith is to appreciate the common
humanity of all people and work to improve life for everyone. This improve-
ment must be achieved by respecting, preserving and uplifting their human
dignity. The objective of charity is to create a world of justice and equity, of
opportunity for all. Poverty is a pernicious condition which erodes human
dignity and blights human potential. It is the duty of believers to intervene
and work to eradicate this blight.
The entire thrust of the etiquette of charity set out in this passage is that it
must operate to undermine, rather than emphasise, the divisions in society.
Charity should not highlight the distinctions between haves and have nots; it
should be conducted not just to eradicate those differences but by submerging
and ignoring those distinctions. This is achieved as much through how charity
is delivered as in the effects that giving has on the lives of its recipients. The
Qur’an suggests something very profound: charity should consist of the best
we have to give, not the kind of things we would ourselves disdain to possess.
Charity is not about giving away our cast-offs; it is not about a paternalistic
attitude that looks down on those in need and suggests that second best is
good enough for the poor; charity is not about hand me downs: it is offering
a helping hand up.
Giving in charity is distinct from zakat, the obligatory poor due, a tax pay-
able by all Muslims on an annual basis. Zakat is one of the pillars of Islam and
it creates a central communal fund designed to be used for specific social wel-
fare purposes. These verses make clear that paying zakat is not the end of our
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obligation and responsibility to others. Wherever need endures, so too does

the obligation to do whatever is in our power by distributing and sharing,
‘spending’ the good things we have been given.
While giving in charity is necessary to achieve the objective of the Qur’an—
the betterment of the poor, of society and humanity as a whole—it has some
major pitfalls. Charity must not become a vanity project. It must not merely
serve to illustrate how much more some people have than others. A harsh word
can undermine all the good that charity may bring: ‘kind words and forgive-
ness are better than charity followed by hurt’ (v.263), the kind of hurtful words
that humiliate those in need by making them feel inadequate because they are
poor. Likewise, charity distributed to emphasise one’s benevolence defeats its
purpose, which is improving the understanding and fellow-feeling between
those who give and those who receive.
Charity is not given to gain favours of others, to acquire status in society,
or to draw attention to oneself, ‘to be seen by men’: all of which are rather com-
mon in contemporary society. I cannot argue with the objective of Band Aid,
Comic Relief and Pudsey Bear in his annual events, but shouldn’t we question
whether they have become a convention that depends on drawing attention
to our giving, on suggesting that only if we get fun and entertainment and a
pat on the back for our efforts are we prepared to give to those in need? Are
we really doing the right thing in encouraging children to go from door to
door rustling up sponsorship so that they can give money to charity? Is that
how we should teach the real etiquette of charity to the next generation? Such
strategies to raise charitable donations are part of a world that fears compassion
fatigue. While there is nothing wrong in giving ‘charity openly’, provided it is
done in the right way, the most important lesson is that there never should or
can be a case for compassion fatigue. Charity is solely to earn God’s pleasure,
whose Compassion is Infinite; our duty is to try and mirror this unending
compassion, on which we depend, in all activities including charity. It is an act
of worship that connects us directly to God. It remains a duty, a constant obli-
gation until such time as we eradicate poverty and the causes of poverty, and
need and the causes of need. It is a double imperative: on the one hand, to
appreciate its true meaning; and on the other hand, to operate it in an appro-
priate manner to serve the real interests of its recipients, not our assessment of
what is good enough for them.
I love the similes used in this passage. We have ‘grains of corn’, ‘garden on a
hill’, arable land that benefits from rainfall, and rocky land that cannot grow
anything. The similes introduce a new kind of logic: where things increase by
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subtraction. So spending one’s wealth to support humanity and humane causes

is like ‘grains of corn that produce seven ears, each bearing a hundred grains’
(v.261). Thus, one adds to one’s wealth by actually subtracting from it. If you
are true to the technique of giving, you ‘double’ your yield, your reward is in
Heaven and here in this world, like a garden on a hill that benefits from a rain-
fall. But if you do not follow the basic rules for giving, then you are ‘like a rock
with earth on it: heavy rain falls and leaves it completely bare’ (v.264): it is in
fact not charity at all but a pretentious act designed to gain fame and fortune,
perhaps increase your sales or commodity value, and fill column inches in
newspapers and slots on television. The idea being conveyed here is that genu-
ine charity, given generously, constantly and continuously, ‘by night and by
day, in private and in public’ (274), will not make you poor but rich. This is
why in this passage we are told no less than three times that ‘those who spend
their wealth in God’s causes’ should have confidence in their actions: there
is ‘no fear for them, nor will they grieve’ (v.274). It will make the whole of
humanity richer by enabling a more equitable and balanced world. The rich-
ness implied is social as well as personal and spiritual.
But what are ‘God’s causes’? The ‘needy’ are described as ‘wholly occupied
in God’s way and cannot travel in the land (for trade)’ (v.273). ‘God’s way’ here
does not mean engagement solely in what are conventionally seen as religious
activities. Rather, it means serving, and providing services for, humanity at
large: working for the betterment of society, seeking socially beneficial knowl-
edge, researching diseases to fight illness, building schools and hospitals, help-
ing refugees and displaced people, providing support to victims of natural
disasters or man’s inhumanity to man, and fighting injustice, inequity and
social ills. Such ‘needy’ individuals and social institutions, too preoccupied
with serving humanity, cannot engage in economic activities, but need con-
stant and continuous support from the believers to survive and flourish. When
the Qur’an talks about giving ‘charity openly’, it seems to me it is referring to
subscriptions for works of public utility, for the advancement of social and
public welfare.
And I would suggest that genuine charity, as described here, means disown-
ing the idea that the rich somehow know more and know better than those in
need. I am thinking particularly about the kind of attitudes associated with
foreign aid, which often creates dependence rather than self-reliance, which
gives technology and services that enable donor nations to make a net profit
on the deal, or which fail to empower the indigenous knowledge and skills of
the recipients [21].
193
The call to give to charity, emphasised again and again in this passage, can
be seen as the Qur’an’s way of urging Muslims to establish pragmatic and per-
petual institutions for the social transformation of society. Across the Muslim
world, such institutions were known as waqfs, ‘pious foundations’. Muslims
seeking spiritual advancement would leave a legacy in the form of property or
a plot of land as a trust in perpetuity to be used for the benefit of humanity.
The individual establishing the waqf would specify its purpose clearly, and
appoint a legally responsible person or group to carry out its function with
knowledge and experience. Such trusts supported universities and hospitals,
scholarship and learning, and funded research and travel. As George Makdisi
shows in his detailed study, The Rise of Colleges [22], waqfs played a vital part
in enabling the flourishing of science and civilisation in the classical era of
Muslim civilisation.
Contemporary Muslims, I believe, have forgotten the intellectual, educa-
tional, scientific and cultural dimensions of charity. Charity amongst Muslims
is now associated almost solely with building mosques and responding to natu-
ral disasters. We need to recover the scope, imagination and creativity these
verses imply in ways relevant to the extent of need in contemporary society at
home and abroad.
The passage moves from discussing charity to usury, from an institution that
builds community and society to one that blights and destroys social cohesion;
from the broad basis of human sympathy to the annihilation of all sympathetic
human affections. Islam is by no means unique in seeing usury in a negative
light. It is regarded as evil in most religions and religious philosophies. In The
Divine Comedy, Dante, who has a particular aversion to Islam and its Prophet,
places usurers in the inner ring of the seventh circle of hell, below even suicides
[23]. Indeed, it is heartening in the aftermath of the global economic crisis to
see the religious leaders from among Jews, Christians and Muslims campaign-
ing together, on the basis of their common opposition to usury, for amend-
ment to the problems of the culture of debt.
The Qur’an distinguishes between trade and usury. The essential difference
has to do with sharing mutual risk. Historically, this meant developing distinc-
tive forms of contractual relationships and instruments for funding trade, most
of which ended up being borrowed from Europe. In trade, it meant that those
with capital—the bankers and investors or capitalists, for short—shared the
risk of making a loss along with the hope of making a profit. Lending money
on usury insulates the capitalist from risk. In event of a loss, the entire burden
is borne by the borrower, the one who uses his or her physical and intellectual
194
labour to begin a new undertaking. The lender merely sits back and counts the
profit; the debt must be repaid irrespective of whether the enterprise suffers
an actual loss. Hence trading and usury are distinct. Trade has the potential to
increase the wealth of a society, brings peoples and cultures together; usury
makes the rich richer. And, which is worse, it can trap people and states in
perpetual debt. It divides society and increases the hardship of those most in
need: it undermines the moderation and strong sense of social justice of ‘the
middle community’ and is diametrically opposed to the law of equity. As such,
usury is a tool of oppression.
The emphasis on charity suggests that the Qur’an is unambiguously on the
side of the poor. It does not want the rich to grow richer at the expense of the
poor by sinking them in greater misery, a direct product of usury. This, how-
ever, is not just an issue of social and economic justice but also of morality.
Usury’s worse effects are on our moral well-being: it generates a love of wealth,
makes us selfish, and leads us to think, like Gordan Gekko in the film Wall
Street, that ‘Greed is Good’. Not surprisingly, the Qur’an takes an unequivocal
stand against usury, and compares those who devour usury to those touched
by the devil, which in this case stands for Mammon: ‘those who take usury will
rise up on the Day of Resurrection like someone tormented by Satan’s touch’
(v.275). There are echoes here of the story of Adam and his wife being led by
the arrogant Iblis to transgress limits and boundaries of ethical behaviour.
The Qur’anic term for usury is riba. The Hans Wehr A Dictionary of Modern
Written Arabic, widely regarded as a standard work, translates riba as ‘interest’
or ‘usurious interest’ [24]. But the term, which originates from the verb r-b-a,
also means ‘to grow, to exceed’, to add, to swell, to add an excess over and above
the necessary. Riba, as Asad notes, contains the idea of ‘the exploitation of the
economically weak by the strong and resourceful’ [25]. Given that the Qur’an
sees oppression as a prime sin, I would suggest that riba is not just about inter-
est, but also about all forms of economic exploitation of the poor: such as
disproportion in the amount of tax paid by the poor, as well as the dispropor-
tionate allocation of taxpayers’ money. Real equity is not spending the same
on everyone, but sufficient according to need. Those who are poor should com-
mand sufficient allocation to tackle the problem of poor schools, and hence
the lack of access to educational opportunities. The same goes for health provi-
sions, cultural marginalisation and all those things that end up victimising the
poor, simply because they are poor.
The ‘usury verses’ (275–82) were amongst the last verses of the Qur’an to
be revealed. The Prophet died soon afterwards, and his companions could not
195
question him about the extensive meaning of riba. Classical commentators,

such as ibn Kathir (1301–73), who relied extensively on the sayings of the
Prophet and his companions’ interpretations of the Qur’an, thus had serious
problems both in understanding and explaining these verses. This, I think, is
a blessing in disguise. Economic exploitation is like plasma: it is difficult to
contain, morphs into any shape and size, and devours anything in its path. It
takes different forms in different societies, depending on their principal modes
of production and technological status.
So the nature of riba, in its fullest sense of economic exploitation, cannot
be delineated once and for all. As Asad rightly notes, ‘our answers must neces-
sarily vary in accordance with the changes to which man’s social and techno-
logical development—and, thus, economic development—is subject’ [26].
Hence, while the Qur’anic condemnation of the concept and practice of riba
is unequivocal and final, every successive Muslim generation is faced with the
challenge of giving new dimensions and fresh economic meaning to this term
which, for want of a better word, may be rendered as ‘usury’.
We live in a time beset by the consequences of economic disasters. As we
contemplate the results of subprime mortgages; the escalation in house prices
which keeps increasing numbers of even moderately affluent people off the
housing ladder; our economy fuelled by an increasing debt burden on every-
one; derivative trading that seeks to make money out of mis-selling to the
poorest; increasing disparities between the pay of private employers and even
the top management of public bodies as against the rest of the workforce; the
billions paid in bonuses to those who manipulate the stock market to make
money from money: there is pertinent pause for thought in this passage.
Untrammelled consumerism has brought us a world of stark contrasts as well
as an increasing gap between rich and poor. I see this passage as speaking
directly to contemporary concerns.
Therefore, we need to tease out the general principles established in this
passage which can steer us away from the path of riba. We return to the similes
of ‘grains of corn’, arable land and the garden. Making money from money is
an arid exercise: in the long run it brings little benefit to a society as a whole,
and is like a rocky land where ‘rain falls and leaves it completely bare’. Just as
seed cast on the ground unaccompanied by labour or rain would not grow, so
expenditure and investment of money has to be accompanied by physical or
intellectual labour to produce wealth that benefits all. Credit and debt are a
scourge: they are like ‘a garden of palms and vines’ that is ‘struck by a fiery
whirlwind and struck down’ (v.266), leaving you in your old age feeble and
196
your offspring destitute. Those who are suffering from a debt-burden, individu-
als and states, are to be helped; and where possible their debts have to be writ-
ten off as an act of charity (280). And, just as a tree should not continue
growing beyond a certain point, lest it ends up devouring and destroying the
rest of the garden, so individuals and societies cannot continue to grow eco-
nomically without destroying the very society and environment that sustain
them. The moderation that is the characteristic of the ‘middle community’
must also be reflected in its economic activities. The Qur’an urges Muslims to
be neither miserly nor extravagant: ‘Do not be tight-fisted, nor so open-ended
that you end up blamed and overwhelmed with regret’ (17:29).
Ultimately, the Qur’an argues, we are all dependent upon God’s bounty.
How we ‘use’ or ‘spend’ is crucial to making society and all its citizens ‘prosper’
and flourish, which are the criteria on which we will all be judged. None of us
can totally insure ourselves against risk, which comes in multiple forms,
because none of us can foresee the future. What cannot be avoided should
therefore be shared; that is the law of equity. Usury is about making those that
have proof against loss insulated from the risks and perils they unfairly push
onto others. Sharing risk is a way of recognising the contribution of both
labour and capital in making a better society. Every soul has to be paid in full
for the toil and trouble of its physical or intellectual labour, as much in the
here and now as it will be in the Hereafter. This is the basis of the distributive
outlook we have discussed previously.
I know of no society that has, as yet, got the balance right. However, I do
think that in this passage we are given the means to devise objective tests that
should be employed to interrogate the ways of the world. What the Qur’an
presents by overlaying and interlacing the spiritual with the mundane is a
guidebook, an operator’s manual for social transformation, the qualitative
reform that has to be sought as much today as at the time of revelation.
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26
AL-BAQARA
WITNESS
282. O you who believe, When you give or take credit among yourselves for a stated
term, write it down. Let a scribe write down in your presence, in all fairness. Let
no scribe refuse to write as God has taught him. So, let him write and let the debtor
dictate. Let him fear God, and let him not diminish a jot from it. If the debtor is
feeble-minded, weak, or is unable to dictate, let his guardian dictate in all fairness.
Summon two witnesses from among your men. If two men are not at hand, then a
man and two women, of such as you approve as witnesses, so that if one forgets, the
other can remind her. Nor should witnesses be reluctant if summoned. And do not
be reluctant to write it down, whether small or large, up to its set term, for this is
fairer in God’s sight, more reliable as evidence, and more likely to prevent doubts.
However, if it concerns an immediate commercial deal that you transact among
yourselves, no blame attaches to you if you do not write it down. And have witnesses
whenever you trade with one another, but neither scribe nor witness must suffer
harm. If you do them harm, this would be an offence on your part. And remain
conscious of God who teaches you; and God has full knowledge of everything.
283. If you are on a journey, and do not find a scribe, let there be a surety handed over. If
you trust one another, let the trustee fulfil his trust, and let him fear God, his Lord.
And do not conceal evidence; whoever conceals it, his heart is tainted with sin. God
knows full well all that you do.
At first sight this passage would seem to be a logical part of the previous
discussion on charity and usury. Certainly, it is the Qur’an at its most practical.
I take it as a separate passage, mainly because of the interpretation it has
received and the general misconstruction and controversy attributed to it.
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How, after all we have just found out about applying rules of equity and fair-
ness, of building inclusiveness and fellow feeling in pragmatic ways, could the
Qur’an turn around and make the veracity of women half that of men? It is
clear to me, and any reasoned reading, that that is precisely not what is being
said. Such a conclusion would defy what the Qur’an consistently argues else-
where, and is testimony to the ease with which misogyny and patriarchal preju-
dice has been read into the text to turn meaning on its head.
During the time of the Prophet Muhammad, Arabia was an illiterate soci-
ety; reading and writing were not the norm. In this passage, the Qur’an con-
tinues the theme of social transformation with the emphasis now on a cultural
shift from an oral society to a literate one. The theme of usury, concerned with
the ethics of lending and borrowing money, naturally leads us, in the longest
verse in the Qur’an (282), to the subject of contracts. Once again, the objective
is to enshrine the principles of justice and equity through mechanisms for
transparency and openness that promote fair dealing, honesty and harmony
while addressing questions of the imbalance of power between participants in
business deals. We have to notice not merely the detail, but the consistency of
the underlying principles that order the diverse aspects of human activity men-
tioned in the Qur’an.
The believers are advised to write down any business arrangements they
contract, rather than simply rely on memory as was normally the case in sev-
enth-century Arabia. Those who could not read or write are urged to use the
services of a professional scribe. On the whole, writing is emphasised as a more
exact and clear way of keeping records: it is ‘more equitable in God’s eyes, more
reliable as testimony, and more likely to prevent doubts arising between you’.
It is interesting to note that it is not the lender but the borrower who is
asked to dictate the contract: ‘let the debtor dictate’. I think this is to balance
the power equation between the lender and the borrower. The lender cannot
make a unilateral contract, writing down whatever he wishes. It must be the
borrower who makes the reliable written statement of what has been agreed
in the contract. The borrower is urged to be honest and ‘fear God’.
It is possible that a borrower may not be in a position to dictate the contract
or to be able to negotiate the contract justly. The word translated by Haleem
as ‘feeble-minded’ is rendered by Yusuf Ali as ‘mentally deficient’; but it has
no such meaning: political correctness notwithstanding, it is a sign of our
changing attitudes, and our awareness of the connection between language
and equality, that no one would nowadays use such a term [27]. The allusion
here is to someone who is too young or too old, and hence may find the trans-
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action or terms of contract difficult to understand. These people need the help
of a guardian, who must also be honest and fair in writing up the contract. In
the period when these verses were revealed, such people would most likely be
orphans who had to rely on their guardians to ensure their property and other
inheritance rights were justly and contractually protected.
However, just writing down the contract is not good enough. The contract
has to be witnessed. And here we come to one of the most controversial pas-
sages in the Qur’an.
The Qur’an suggests that witnesses should be ‘two men’, or failing that ‘one
man and two women’. But these are not just any witnesses; they come from
‘those you approve as witnesses’. So those who act as witnesses have to satisfy
the parties engaged in transaction, and these parties themselves reflect the
norms and values of the society from which they come.
Much has been made of this section of verse 282; it has been interpreted to
mean ‘two women equal one man’. On the basis of this interpretation, classical
as well as modern commentators have argued that women lack common sense,
they are less reliable, and indeed somewhat inferior to men. Those who take
such a position often justify their claim by citing dubious, and often fabricated
Hadith, or sayings of the Prophet Muhammad: sayings which are in stark con-
trast to the overwhelming body of evidence in Hadith and the biographies of
the Prophet, which show the recipient of God’s revelation as a man who treated
his wives and other women with the utmost respect, and operated and encour-
aged the social equivalence of men and women explicit and implicit in the
Qur’an. It is common for what are supposedly more pious and puritan seg-
ments of Muslim societies, including traditional scholars and thinkers, to have
no compunction in asserting openly that women are feeble-minded, irrational
and timid [28]. Some other Muslim groups even invoke science to justify their
claims about the inferiority of women. It is safe to say that misogyny rules.
This is an inversion of the meaning in the Qur’an, and thus a serious perversion
of Islam.
However, it is by no means a failing exclusive to Muslim society. The non-
sense talked by so-called Muslim scholars is exactly the language and terms
that were used for centuries in Western society. Derived initially from the
Bible, this mindset led to women being viewed as chattels, first of their fathers
and then their husbands. Exactly such rhetoric was used in the long campaign
to secure voting rights for women in Western nations. There are many Muslim
countries today where women have the vote, indeed Muslim countries led
rather than followed in producing women prime ministers. There are however
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notable exceptions. It is sadly the case that the antiquated rhetoric endures
regardless of the strides that Muslim women have made in education, the pro-
fessions, even politics. It endures from the blinkered addiction to traditional
interpretation. Traditional interpretation on the subject of women is not only
wholly offensive in its preservation of failings and errors, it is also schizo-
phrenic. Those selfsame religious scholars who fulminate about the irrational
and feeble-minded character of women are just as likely, with a straight face
and no hint of reflection, to turn around and extol the excellence and superior-
ity of the status, role and rights that Islam has granted to women.
The obvious point to note is that this verse categorically does not say that
women lack common sense, or are feeble-minded or inferior in any way. The
issue of two women witnesses relates specifically to commercial transactions.
And we have to consider the context in which such transactions would occur
in the patriarchal society of seventh-century Arabia. Furthermore, it must be
clear from the context of the principle the Qur’an is putting forth that this is
not a statement on the status of women. The emphasis in this verse is on jus-
tice, where the debtors, guardians, the scribes as well as the witnesses are all
urged to act justly, to play their part in securing the social transformation that
is required to bring society to a higher moral condition.
In this verse the context is not just important—it is all there is! We have
already seen that women in Arabian society did not have a great deal of free
will, and did not play an important part in public life. Of course, there were
exceptions: the most notable being Khadijah, the first wife of the Prophet, who
persuaded him to go on a business trip on her behalf—a prelude to their
romance and eventual marriage. But on the whole they were not involved in
financial transactions, and lacked experience in this regard. Moreover, women
tended to stay in their own domains and did not go out to bazaars and markets,
mosques and courts, as often and commonly as men. So, the very least we can
say is that this advice relates to a specific society in a particular period. The
second woman is there to support the first, and help her out if needed: ‘remind
her’. The two encourage each other to come forward to do their public duty,
that is to be active participants in creating a more just and equitable society.
And if one of the female witnesses is coerced, manipulated or otherwise forced
to change her testimony by some unscrupulous male, not an unlikely event in
the kind of society we are dealing with, the two could support each other and
stand firm.
The requirement of two female witnesses is not something to be projected
forward. It is a backward glance to the circumstances of the society the Qur’an
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AL-BAQARA: WITNESS
seeks to change, a means by which it can transform itself. Its continued rele-
vance occurs because many Muslim societies today still need to make just the
same transformation. Under such conditions, the Qur’an says that if you can-
not find two satisfactory male witnesses, then have one satisfactory male and
two satisfactory female witnesses. But an explicit reason is given for this provi-
sion: ‘if one of the two women should forget the other can remind her’. Now,
the point about a specific reason is that it can change with changing times and
circumstances. That’s why we cannot take a provision such as this as a general
rule or command. General rules in the Qur’an are simply stated as fact, as for
example: ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ (256). But context-specific verses
tend to have conditions or reasons attached.
We also need to see this verse in relation to what the Qur’an says elsewhere.
As a whole, the Qur’an does not locate spirituality, agency, morality, or indi-
viduality in gender. On the contrary, it insists on the equality of humanity,
men and women, races and nationalities, colour and cultures; as such, it often
mentions men and women in parallel to emphasise explicitly their ontological
equality: ‘For men and women who are devoted to God—believing men and
believing women, obedient men and obedient women, truthful men and truth-
ful women, patient men and patient women, humble men and humble women,
charitable men and charitable women, men who fast and women who fast,
men who protect their chastity and women who protect their chastity, and
men who remember God frequently and women who remember God fre-
quently—God has prepared forgiveness and a rich reward’ (33:35).
There is another, equally important, reason why it is absurd even to think,
let alone claim, that this verse is suggesting that ‘two women equal one man’.
When it comes to witnesses, the Qur’an suggests that different situations
require different kinds of witnesses. When making a bequest, for example,
any two men will do (5:106). For witnessing a divorce, two witnesses, male
or female, are acceptable (65:2). If a husband accuses his wife of cheating,
then her testimony rules over his (if this was turned into a general ruling,
then women would be superior to men!) (24:6). And if a husband wants to
take things further, then he has to produce four eye witnesses to justify his
claim (24:4).
A main purpose of the emphasis on different kinds of witnesses is to encour-
age the believers to reflect on the nature of evidence. What constitutes reliable
evidence? Whom can you trust? The Qur’an suggests one should examine the
context of each particular situation and then decide who would make a viable
witness: what kind of experience is needed, and how many witnesses one would
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need to confirm the validity of a particular event. The witnesses themselves

have a serious burden to bear: they cannot conceal their testimony; they are
required to come forward unhesitatingly when needed and be just and truthful
in their testimony. They have to bear witness for the sake of God, even though
it may be against themselves, their parents or relatives (4:135).
What the Qur’an seeks, I think, is to lay the foundations of a literate, reflex-
ive society. If you have to write things down then you have to learn to read and
write—the availability of scribes notwithstanding. If you have to examine the
context of each situation, then you have to think seriously not just about what
constitutes evidence but also about your society as a whole. The ‘middle com-
munity’ cannot function on rumours and heresy; it seeks to be reasonable, to
use reason and work with thorough and viable evidence in its daily economic,
social and political transactions.
The ‘problem of women’, so evident in Muslim societies, has nothing to do
with the Qur’an: it is a problem created by Muslims in history which draws
on a tradition of interpretation. Classical commentators, as products of their
age, were often misogynists. They came from cultures which had a long tradi-
tion of seclusion of women, as well as the veiling and subordination of women,
all of which they managed to integrate into their reading and interpretation
of the Qur’an. Traditional modernists have uncritically followed in their foot-
steps, both out of respect and as an excuse for confirming their own prejudices.
Modern history has also created conditions in Muslim societies that have made
them more conservative than earlier eras. In the face of the challenges of radical
change, sections of Muslim society have sought to turn back the clock rather
than think forward according to the principles of the Qur’an. The prevailing
traditionalism, based on narrow, literal and out-of-context reading of the
Qur’an, is responsible for the plight of women in Muslim societies—and it is
the main hurdle to the progressive change that the Qur’an itself seeks.
This traditionalism has been devised and elaborated without the voice of
Muslim women scholars. It is to the growing ranks of learned sisters in Islam
that we must look to balance our understanding. Without women’s voices and
women’s readings, we can have no truly inclusive contemporary interpretation
of the Qur’an’s meaning. Without listening to ‘the believing women’ we cannot
transcend the hypocrisy and unreasonable nonsense put out by so many tradi-
tionalists to the detriment of Muslim society and civilisation as a whole.
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27
AL-BAQARA
PRAYER
284. To God belongs all that is in the heavens and all that is on earth. Whether you
reveal what lies in your souls or whether you conceal it, God will call you to account
for it, forgiving whom He wills, and punishing whomever He wills, for God has the
power to will anything.
285. The Messenger believes in that which has been revealed to him from his Lord, as
do the believers. All believe in God, His angels, His books, and His apostles making
no distinction between any of His messengers. They say: ‘We hear, and we obey. We
await Your forgiveness, O Lord, unto You is the journey’s end.’
286. God does not burden a soul with more than it can bear. To its credit, that which it
has earned; and against it, that which it has deserved. ‘Our Lord, Condemn us not
if we forget or fall into error. Our Lord, Lay not on us such a burden as You did lay
on those before us. Our Lord, Lay not on us a burden greater than we have strength
to bear. Pardon us, forgive us and have mercy on us. You are our Protector; so grant
us Your support against those who stand against faith.’
Our reading began with the first sura, al-Fatiha, which is the basis of all the
cycles of Muslims’ five daily prayers. We conclude our reading of sura Al-
Baqara with a passage devoted to the subject of prayer that ends with a prayer.
The close of Al-Baqara indeed reprises the references to belief in God, His
angels, His books and His apostles with which it began. The Qur’an overlays,
returns to and interweaves its themes so that we emerge from reading returning
to first principles, but with a deeper sense of the meaning of its words.
Al-Fathia provides a summation of what Islam is and teaches; Al-Baqara,
the longest chapter, provides an overview of what the Qur’an means as spiritual
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and practical guidance to humankind. Throughout the rest of the Qur’an the
themes included in these two chapters are expanded and explored, reprised
and restated with the addition of more detail. The circularity and interweaving
of the style are invitations to search for interconnection, to read each verse,
each passage in relation to each other and in the context of the whole, to
remember at each instant, with each word, that there is nothing in isolation
and that everything that is being said is constantly referring to past, present
and future. It is a lot to take in; there is, I find, always more to learn and strug-
gle to understand. So it is fitting that Al-Baqara ends with the most human
and humane of prayers.
This closing passage opens where the Qur’an itself began, emphasising the
absolute sovereignty of God. Here is a restatement of the ‘Lord of the Day of
Judgement’ to remind us that from God nothing is concealed. All people,
believers and non-believers alike, are ultimately accountable in exactly the same
way for their own thoughts and actions. No one, including believers, has an
automatic right to forgiveness. Forgiveness is earned by effort. God forgives or
punishes ‘whom He wills’. In this common end we find the commonality and
unity of all humanity through all time. The task, the challenge faced by each
individual is always the same: to make the effort, to do deeds in this life which
earn God’s pleasure.
The first principle for believers is to uphold God as absolute sovereign of
the heavens and the earth, for everything belongs to Him. He has absolute
authority: ‘He has power over all things.’ We fully understand ourselves, our
human relationships and our relations to the whole of creation only when we
appreciate the supremacy of the creative power that brought everything into
being, sustains it in being and invests it with meaning and purpose. To be con-
scious of God is to look at the world in a distinctive way: humbly, with awe
and wonder, with a duty of care, with responsibility for making the most of all
that has been created for our use and benefit. We are not lords of this world,
not masters and owners, but trustees accountable to a higher authority in all
our thoughts and actions.
Belief in God is followed by conviction in his guidance; and his angels, his
revealed texts, and his prophets. The Qur’an emphasises that believers do not
make distinctions between any of God’s prophets but respect them all equally.
From this should come respect for those who follow the revelations to earlier
prophets. At heart, the messages each brought contain the same glad tidings.
It is human perversity, through dissension, mutual jealousy, through failure to
understand God’s purpose in the diversity of our identities and ways, that dis-
torts and divides the common effort required of all people of faith.
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AL-BAQARA: PRAYER
The sura ends with a prayer which the Muslim Community, encountering
severe hardship in Medina, is urged to recite. I find the emphasis in this prayer
on human frailties fascinating and significant. Believers can, of course, commit
a sin knowingly. But the mistakes stressed here arise from unintentional error,
faulty judgement or forgetfulness. These are truly human attributes. The point
is not just that we need forgiveness, for sins committed knowingly and
unknowingly. We also need to be aware that these very weaknesses are what
make us human. Belief does not make us exempt from human weakness. Belief
is the context in which we work to deal with and through our weaknesses in
all our humanity.
The prayer comes in two parts. The first expresses certain desires on our part
as God’s creation: take us not to task if we forget or do wrong unintentionally;
do not place on us the heavy burden that was placed on people before us, and
do not overburden us with more than we can bear. It all ends up as a plea for
the preservation of our humanity. The second, corresponding part acknowl-
edges God as our Creator and asks for absolution: ‘pardon us’, ‘forgive us’ and
‘show us Mercy’. Together, the two parts not only define our relationship with
God but also the nature of our humanity: our ability to be broken by afflic-
tions, suffering and atrocities.
Verse 286 says: ‘God does not burden a soul with more than it can bear’.
This ‘burden’ is not an earthly burden. Clearly the suffering, hardship and
injustices we see around us can and do compromise human dignity and drive
many mad with pain. This is precisely why we pray for freedom from such
afflictions. And, as believers, we are duty-bound to stand up to and try to do
something about them, to struggle constantly for the preservation of our com-
mon humanity and the increase of the practical delivery of justice and equity
to all human beings, as well as the natural world.
The burden mentioned here relates to our individual responsibility and
accountability to God. It is our final judgement which is limited by our indi-
vidual capacity—and that includes our ability to do something about the
untold suffering we see all around us. This is precisely why the verse goes on to
say that each soul ‘gains whatever good that it has done, and suffers its bad’. We
shall not be judged, the Qur’an tells us, if we do not have the ability to achieve
the perfect results in all that needs to be done, or are forced to abstain because
of our lack of capacity. What matters is doing as much as we are able, and using
our intelligence to appreciate what should be done. The religious temper is to
open our hearts, minds and spirit to the understanding that things can be bet-
ter; that as things are, they do not ever and always need to be.
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The promise that the Qur’an makes, like the promise of other monotheistic
faiths, is the promise of hope: there is always hope of guidance and forgiveness.
And the greatest hope of all is the enduring, infinite compassion and mercy of
the All-powerful. It is a call to effort, in full acknowledgement of all our frail-
ties and failings in this life. It will be the individual and personal dispensation
on which we rely on the Day of Reckoning, because we are known according
to our capacities and the opportunities presented to us in life. Each is judged
only according to how they faced up to the problems and made the most of
the potential of their times. God is Absolute; we are indeed creatures of our
times. All we can do is the best we are able, to make things better by raising
our aspirations to the ideals and values for transforming society set out in the
Qur’an. When we do this, we have ‘grasped the most trustworthy handhold,
that never breaks’ (v.256).
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Part Three
THEMES AND CONCEPTS

28
INTRODUCTION
We have completed a reading of only two chapters of the Qur’an: al-Fatiha

and Al-Baqara. Yet as summation and overview they communicate the essential
message, illustrate the extraordinary nature of the text and the special character
of its style. Indeed, Al-Baqara has introduced and covered the gamut of the
themes, injunctions and principles to which we will turn in this part of the
book.
The Qur’an can be read on various levels. It can simply be an act of worship
and devotion: as al-Fatiha is read during daily prayers, or the verse of the
Throne is used in devotional recitations. It can be read for religious guidance:
to discover the articles of faith and importance of performing certain obliga-
tory acts of Islam such as zakat, hajj and fasting. Moreover, the Qur’an can be
read, as we have been trying to read it, to tease out contextual and deeper
meaning, to gain guidance for contemporary problems, and to think with. It
can also be read at a mystical level, as the Sufis do, to gain esoteric and meta-
physical insights. And, of course, as with all religious texts—the Torah, Bible,
Bhagavad Gita, or the teachings of Buddha—it can also be studied as a schol-
arly endeavour, which requires some training, expertise and considerable study.
What one takes from the text depends on how one reads, the purpose and
effort invested in engaging with the Qur’an.
At this point it is worth reflecting on the principal technique we found
essential: context. Appreciating the text and engaging with its meaning, I have
argued, depends on becoming aware of the multiple distinct contexts the
Qur’an addresses and distinguishing between them. As a commentary on the
life of Prophet Muhammad, and the people, customs and culture of Arabia
211
during his times, understanding the Qur’an requires knowing something about
the life and personality of Prophet Muhammad and the circumstances and
background of the Arab community in which he lived. The general cultural
milieu and the specific circumstances within which each verse is revealed have
a direct bearing on the ability to understand the kernel of universal truth
embedded in the text, to distinguish the time-bound from the enduring prin-
ciple which is timeless, in the sense that it has to be applied within the specific
circumstances of the succession of times and places that comprise human
history.
The other essential in clarifying the significance of context is to consider
how individual verses are connected with other verses elsewhere in the Qur’an,
and how the parts are integrated within the whole. We need to read the
Qur’an, as the text itself demands, with some intellectual rigour. What we can-
not do is to take a given verse, divorced from its context, and say this is pre-
cisely what it means. This is not a way of reading the Qur’an; rather it is a
means of justifying one’s own bias and prejudices.
Interpretation, of course, is a human endeavour. Any reader will bring his
or her own experiences, cultural background, understanding of contemporary
circumstances and intellectual ability to his or her reading. And that reading,
like my own, will have its natural limitations. So no reading of the Qur’an can
be a definitive, final word on the Sacred Book. We cannot, therefore, consider
any interpretation of the Qur’an to be universal and eternal; and we must look
at any such claims with scepticism, whether they come from classical commen-
tators or their modern counterparts, Muslim scholars or Western experts on
the Qur’an. Our approach to, and understanding of, the Qur’an has to develop
and evolve continuously with the passage of time and changes in our circum-
stances. So interpreting the Qur’an is a dynamic, living process, involving adap-
tation, additions, abandonment, refinement and improvement.
However, this is not to say that all readings of the Qur’an are necessarily
time-bound or simply a reflection of a reader’s background and circumstances.
A socially rational interpretation of certain general verses is possible: we can
all agree that a verse such as ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ (2: 256) or
‘God does not love the transgressors’ (2: 190) can be read objectively and has
common meaning. Appreciating the universal import of certain general verses
is, I think, particularly important if our concern is interrogating the text rather
than justifying our preconceived ideas or pre-existing social beliefs. There is
an objective core of meaning in the Qur’an that is accessible to all fair-minded
readers.
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INTRODUCTION
From the outset I sought to temper the traditional approach of reading the
two initial chapters verse by verse. I focused my reading on what are to me
distinct passages, each of which dealt with particular themes. It was consider-
ing the text in these discrete passages that gave me the clearest insight into
structure and style, while awareness of a central theme and its implications
illuminated connections between what might at first sight appear disconnected
or extraneous verses. Recognition of a central theme or concept focused atten-
tion on interconnection as the way in which juxtaposition, simile, metaphor
and parable worked to expand the potential meaning and implications to be
drawn from the passages under consideration.
Interconnection is not merely a feature of particular passages within specific
chapters; it is for me the defining character of the Qur’an as a whole. The tra-
ditional exercise of exploring the text verse by verse, by its very nature cannot
yield insights into the broader themes, essential concepts and universal mean-
ing of the Qur’an, nor can concentrating our attention on just two chapters.
We need to examine the themes and concepts we have encountered, such as
the Qur’anic notion of prophecy, or the idea of community, or nature, as they
are reflect in the Sacred Text as a whole.
This is what we have to do next.
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29
PROPHETS AND REVELATION
Prophecy is one of the major themes of the Qur’an. God guides humanity,
away from error and sin and towards goodness and justice, through prophecy.
Prophecy brings ‘good news’ about humanity’s potential for advancement and
elevation, and warning that we can sink, as individuals and communities, into
the depths of ignorance and barbarity. The function of prophecy is to put
humanity on the track of physical and moral advancement, to inspire nobler
and higher sentiments and inspire and instil in men and women virtues that
take them closer to the Divine. Prophecy is thus not only the method through
which God communicates His Message to humanity; it is also a sign of His
mercy and favour.
The Qur’an presents prophecy as a universal phenomenon: ‘we have des-
patched a messenger to every nation’ (16:36). All prophets are equal, ‘we make
no distinction between any of them’ (3:84), but ‘We have made some Mes-
sengers more excellent than others’ (2:253). Muslims are required to believe
in the revelation of every single one. The prophets are not just the bearers of
the Divine message, but they also, through their lives, demonstrate how the
message is to be interpreted in practical life. This is why they are ‘only human
beings’ (14:11) who come from within the community. They understand the
suffering of the community, are anxious about its turmoil, and are trusted by
all (9:128–9). They are chosen because of their pure character and special per-
sonalities, and endowed with knowledge and wisdom to ‘recite His signs’
(3:164) to their communities. They become guides and leaders, and commu-
nicate the revelation from God to their people without fear and with resolute-
ness and patience.
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But what is revelation? The Qur’an’s answer to the question is given in

42:51–2: ‘it is not granted to any mortal that God should speak to him except
through revelation or from behind a veil, or by sending a messenger to reveal
by His command what He will: He is exalted and wise. So We have revealed a
Spirit to you [Prophet] by Our command: you did not know before what the
Book is nor what faith is, but We have made it a light whereby We guide
whomsoever of our servants.’ What we are being told is that God does not
speak directly to a prophet, but the communication, or revelation, comes from
behind a veil in the form of a light that is infused in the prophet’s mind or
heart. The prophets thus know and can perceive things in the way other
humans cannot. It is interesting to note that the agency of revelation is not
made clear: the ‘messenger’ who brings revelation is left undefined, and the
message itself comes in the form of a ‘Spirit’. We can conjecture that the mes-
senger is an angel. In the opening verses of chapter 53, the Star, which is gener-
ally accepted as referring to Prophet Muhammad’s vision in the Cave of Hira
where the revelations actually began, the revelation is taught to the Prophet
by someone with ‘mighty powers and great strength, who stood on the highest
horizon’. Some translators and commentators suggest it is an angel, or more
specifically, Angel Gabriel (or Jibreel). But it could also be the Spirit men-
tioned in 42:51. Elsewhere in the Qur’an, angels and the Spirit are mentioned
together as two different entities. In ‘The Night of Glory’, for example, ‘angels
and Sprit descend again and again with their Lord’s permission on every task’
(97:4); and ‘on the Day whose length is fifty thousand years’, ‘angels and Spirit
ascend to Him’. (70:4). Whatever the agency of revelation, the revelation itself
is both seen and felt: ‘[The Prophet’s] own heart did not distort what he saw’
(53:11), which suggests that it is both an intuitive and a visionary experience.
But ultimately, revelation remains a Divine mystery, as it must. It is a spiritual
phenomenon and, as such, not amenable to any form of purely rational analy-
sis. It can only be judged by its end product, the quality of the text it produces:
what does it actually say, what eternal truth does it communicate, and does it
stand the test of time and last for eternity? The truth of the revelation that
infused Prophet Muhammad with a ‘Spirit of Our command’ is embodied in
the Qur’an itself.
The Qur’an distinguishes between two types of prophets: rasul and nabi.
Although both are divinely inspired, only rasuls, or messengers, receive revela-
tion in the form of a Book: ‘these were the men to whom we gave the Book,
and authority, and prophethood’ (40:78). Thus, while every rasul is a nabi, not
all nabis are rasuls. As communicators of revelation, both rasuls and nabis serve
216
as ‘witnesses’ to the Divine Message. On the Day of Judgement, these ‘wit-

nesses’ will be called and truth will be clear from falsehood: ‘We shall call a
witness from every community, and say, “produce your evidence”, and then
they will know that truth belongs to God alone; the gods they invented will
forsake them’ (28:75).
Adam was the first nabi and Muhammad is the last rasul. In between,
the Qur’an mentions 23 other prophets, many being familiar names from
the Bible: Idris (Enoch) (19:56–7, 21:85–6); Nuh (Noah) (6:84); Hud
(11:50–60); Saleh (11:61–6); Ibrahim (Abraham) (6:83, 11:69–76); Isma’il
(Ishmael) (6:84, 19:54–55); Ishaq (Isaac) (11:70–74); Lut (Lot) (7:80–84);
Ya’qub ( Jacob) (11:71); Yousef ( Joseph) (6:84 and the whole of sura 12);
Shu’aib (7:85, 11: 84); Ayyub ( Job) (6:84); Musa (Moses) (6:84, 20:9–99);
Harun (Aaron) (6:84, 20:90); Dhu’l-kifl (Ezekiel) (21:85–6, 38:48); Dawud
(David) (6:84); Sulaiman (Solomon) (6:84); Ilias (Elias) (6:85); Al-Yasa
(Elisha) (6:86); Yunus ( Jonah) (6:86); Zakariyya (Zachariah) (6:85); Yahya
( John) (6:85) and Isa ( Jesus) (3: 45–8; 43:57–9; 19:88–98; 5:116–17;
19:16–36; 5:46–7; 5:72–5; 43: 63–5). All these prophets are one community;
they communicated the same message of the unity of God and the importance
of upholding justice and equity (42:13).
Two prophets receive particular attention. The first is Jesus, who is men-
tioned in no less than 93 verses. The Qur’anic name for Jesus is Isa; but he is
also referred to as the ‘Messiah’, ‘Servant’, ‘Messenger’, ‘Word’, ‘Sign’ and a
‘Prophet’ to whom a Book was revealed. He was born of virgin birth, per-
formed various miracles, and preached the Gospels. The Qur’an’s take on Jesus
is illustrated in 3:45–50:
The angel said: ‘Mary! God gives you news of a Word from Him, whose name will be
Messiah, Jesus, son of Mary, who will be held in honour in this world and the next,
who will be one of those drawn nearer to God. And he shall speak to people in his
infancy, and in his adulthood. He will be one of the righteous.’ She said: ‘My Sustainer!
How can I have a son when no man has ever touched me?’ The angel answered: ‘Thus
it is: God creates what He wills: when He wills a thing to be, He but says unto it, “Be”,
and it is. He will teach him the Scripture and wisdom, the Torah and the Gospel. He
will send him as a messenger to the Children of Israel: “I have come to you with a sign
from your Lord: I will make the shape of bird for you out of clay, then breathe into it
and, by God’s permission, it will become a real bird; I will heal the blind and the leper,
and bring the dead back to life with God’s permission.”’
While Jesus is said to be born of divine decree, the Qur’an emphatically says
he is not the son of God, and emphasises the point by frequently referring to
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him as the ‘Son of Mary’. Indeed, to accept Jesus as the son of God would be
tantamount to denying the fundamental and all-pervading Qur’anic message
of the unity and transcendence of God: ‘They say, “God has children!” May
He be exalted! He is the Self-Sufficient One; everything in the heavens and
the earth belongs to Him’ (10:68). Similarly, it would be a negation of the
Qur’an’s basic teachings if the trinitarian notion of ‘God the Son’ is accepted:
‘Those who say, “God is the Messiah, son of Mary”, are defying the truth’
(5:17). Jesus himself, according to the Qur’an, made no claims to divinity.
Indeed, God will question him on the Day of Judgement about such claims:
‘When God says, “Jesus, son of Mary, did you say to people, ‘worship me and
my mother as two gods alongside God?’”, he will say, “May You be exalted! I
would never say what I had no right to say; if I said such a thing You would
indeed have known it”’ (5:116). The Qur’an also denies that Jesus was crucified
to death, but acknowledges his ascension into heaven, which is both a sign and
affirmation of his prophethood: ‘(They said): “We have killed the Messiah,
Jesus, son of Mary, the Messenger of God.” They did not kill him, nor did they
crucify him, though it was made to appear like that to them…’ The overall con-
clusion: ‘The Messiah, the son of Mary, was only a Messenger; other messen-
gers had come and gone before him’ (5:75). [1]
The second prophet is Muhammad, who is naturally given considerable
space as the Qur’an is addressed to and through him. Surprisingly, his proper
name only occurs in the Qur’an four times. Like Jesus, who is given a universal
significance in the Qur’an—he is ‘a sign to all beings’ (21:91)—Muhammad
too is a witness, guide and mercy to those who devoted themselves to God
(16:89). The two prophets are going to play a prominent role in the eschato-
logical drama of the last days [2]. But unlike Jesus, Muhammad does not per-
form miracles. His only miracle is the Qur’an itself.
Muhammad is ‘the unlettered prophet’ (7:157) who is endowed with an
‘exalted character’ (68:4). His responsibility is simply to communicate the mes-
sage of God: ‘So [Prophet] warn them: your only task is to give warning, you
are not there to control them’ (88:21–2). This he does in a loving, kind and
gentle way: ‘had you been severe and harsh-hearted, they would have broken
away from about you’ (3:159). He is accused of being a fortune-teller, a mad
man, and a poet by a society where poets were thought to be invaded by spirits
when they delivered their poetry. He is none of these things, says the Qur’an,
but the last prophet: ‘Muhammad is not the father of any of your men, but he
is the Messenger of God and the Seal of the prophets’ (33:40).
So, one of the special features of Muhammad is that the Divine message
comes to an end with him. But why, one may ask, does prophecy stop with
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Muhammad? The conventional Muslim argument is that religion has evolved

through history, the message of God becomes more developed and refined
from one prophet to another, and reaches its final form in Islam. As proof,
Muslims present Islam, with some sense of moral superiority, it has to be said,
as the most perfect and complete religion. There is also a simple observation
that can be used as evidence. No other prophet has actually emerged after the
Prophet Muhammad. This does not mean that no claims to prophethood have
been made; the twentieth century has been witness to all sorts of strange reli-
gious movements, from New Age syncretism to Scientology. But no successful
prophet has appeared, no Divine text has come to light, and no global religion
with billions of adherents has arisen.
I would argue that in theory Islam is indeed a perfect religion: ‘this day have
I perfected your religion and completed My favour on you and chosen for you
Islam as a religion’ (5:3). But its practice, being a human endeavour, can never
be perfect. Indeed, in some cases, as we have already seen, the practice of what
goes under the rubric of Islam can be quite destructive. Muhammad is ‘the Seal
of the prophets’ because the message of God has reached its natural conclu-
sion: all that is left is to understand the message and its actualisation in indi-
vidual, social and communal life, which is an eternal struggle. However, the
fact that Muhammad is designated as the last prophet does mean that his fol-
lowers have a special responsibility: they have to prove, by their behaviour, that
his message is indeed the final and perfect form of religion. Here the evidence
is seriously flawed!
Muslim modernists present a second argument to defend the finality of
prophecy. By the time Islam appears in the world, and the Qur’an is revealed,
humankind has become rationally and morally mature. Reading, writing and
systematic thinking are beginning to emerge and gain some ground. The ben-
efits of ethical and moral behaviour are recognised and appreciated. So the
need for further revelations becomes superfluous. But, ‘the fact that man is still
plagued by moral confusion’, Fazul Rahman notes, ‘and that his moral sense
has not kept pace with his advance in knowledge, in order to be consistent and
meaningful, this argument must add that man’s moral maturity is conditional
upon his constantly seeking guidance from the Divine Books, especially the
Qur’an, and that man has not become mature in the sense that he can dispense
with the divine guidance’ [3]. Given that advances in knowledge, by their very
nature, generate a host of moral and ethical problems and dilemmas, there will
always be need for Divine guidance. But should our ‘moral maturity’ be defined
solely in terms of Divine guidance? I would suggest that the argument also
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works the other way round: we come to realise the true significance of Divine
help, and the fact that we cannot resolve our dilemmas without it, only after
becoming morally mature. So this argument has a few shortcomings.
I think our understanding of why the Qur’an describes Muhammad as the
last prophet has to be based on something else. And it is this: after Muham-
mad, we do not need another ‘chosen’ man to guide us through the moral
morass of human existence. We may be ‘mature’ in relation to some issues; and
not so mature in relation to other new, emerging and more complex issues.
Either way the responsibility for resolving our moral and ethical dilemmas rests
squarely on our own individual and collective shoulders. Moreover, it is our
responsibility, I would argue a duty, to create a fair and equitable society. There
will not be a new Moses to lead us to the Promised Land; or a new Jesus to save
our souls; or, indeed, a new Muhammad to establish a just social order. The
end of prophecy is a sanction against our intrinsic inclination to look perpetu-
ally for a Messiah so we can place all our burdens and responsibilities on his
shoulders. It suggests, in particular, that it is our own responsibility to stand
up to tyranny and oppression. The prophets serve as our models, they motivate
us to do good and behave morally, and they are our ideal spiritual guides. But
following prophetic example also means speaking truth to power and waging
a struggle against cruelty and domination. After all, this is exactly what every
prophet in history did and had to do. In particular, we learn from the Qur’an,
the prophets waged struggles against three types of people, personified in the
story of Moses by Pharaoh, Haman and Korah (40:23–9). The three are respec-
tively the symbols for the ruling elite, the corrupt administrators and the phe-
nomenally rich, who work together to accumulate power, thwart distribution
of wealth and subjugate and marginalise most of society. What the prophets
achieved, or tried to achieve, in the past, we have to do in our own time.
The Qur’an describes a special event in the life of the Prophet Muhammad
known as the ‘night journey’. It is a journey that takes the Prophet Muhammad
from Mecca to the mosque in Jerusalem: ‘Glory be to Him who made His
servant travel by night from the sacred place of worship to the furthest place
of worship, whose surroundings we have blessed, to show him some of Our
signs’ (17:1). This part of the night journey, known as isra’, is the first stage of
mi‘raj, the Prophet’s Ascension to Heaven. Here, Muhammad ‘soared up and
stood, poised on the highest point of the horizon; then he approached and
came on down, and stood two bow-lengths off or even closer’; and ‘he saw
some of his Lord’s greatest signs’ (53:1–18).
Muslim scholars differ in their opinion about whether the Ascension was a
bodily journey or a spiritual experience. Tradition even has the Prophet riding
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a white mystical beast, Buraq, taller than a donkey but smaller than a mule. Its
step is said to cover a distance equal to the range of its vision. The prophet tied
it up in Jerusalem and then went up through the seven heavens, meeting other
prophets as he went, culminating with Ibrahim. Myths even have Muhammad
bargaining with God about the number of times Muslims are supposed to pray
during the day.
But the Qur’an makes it clear that isra’ and mi‘raj are spiritual journeys, a
vision. Later on in ‘the Star’, the sura which contains the description of mi‘raj,
the event is clearly described as a vision: ‘the vision we showed you was only a
test for people’ (17:60). Muhammad saw the ‘Lord’s greatest signs’ with a spiri-
tual eye. The experience gave him hope at a time when his situation in Mecca
was of utter helplessness.
Given his character, his spiritual enlightenment and the fact that he is the
recipient of revelation, the Prophet is the ideal model of behaviour for Mus-
lims. Indeed, the Qur’an tells us that ‘in God’s messenger you have a fine model
for someone who looks forward to (meeting) God and the Last Day, and men-
tions God frequently’ (33:21). Someone who is held in such high esteem com-
mands both admiration and respect; and Muslims go out of their way to show
due respect to the Prophet. At the Qur’an’s suggestion (33:56), we send bless-
ings on the Prophet every time we mention his name: ‘peace be upon him’. Out
of respect, Muslims prefer that the Prophet is not depicted in images. We try
to emulate the Prophet and model our behaviour on his. And, not surprisingly,
we are upset when he is disrespected or depicted in an insulting manner [4].
While the Prophet is the ideal model to emulate and respect, can we also
say that he is perfect in all ways?
I think the assumption that the Prophet was perfect in all regards, common
amongst both classical and contemporary jurists and religious scholars, is logi-
cally inconsistent with the fact that he was a human being. To be human, by
nature, is not to be perfect. To assume that the Prophet was a perfect human
being is to conflate his personality with the original source of revelation: God.
The Prophet himself never made this claim; the doctrine of isma, or infallibil-
ity of the Prophet, emerged later when his sayings and actions, the Sunna, was
formulated.
The Qur’an points to the Prophet’s humanity on a number of occasions,
when he is corrected or indeed admonished. On one occasion, he was address-
ing a group of Quraysh leaders in Mecca. A poor blind man, ibn Umm Mak-
toom, interrupted him. Unaware that the Prophet was busy, ibn Umm
Maktoom asked him repeatedly to teach him some verses of the Qur’an. The
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Prophet was not pleased at his repeated interruptions, grimaced and turned
away from him. The following verses were then revealed criticising his
behaviour:
He frowned and turned away,
Because a blind man came to (interrupt) him.
What do you know? He [the blind man] might be purified [by the guidance of the
Qur’an]?
Or he might receive admonition, and the teaching might profit him?
As to the one who regards himself as self-sufficient,
You gave him your full attention,
Though it is not you to be blamed if he rejects the guidance.
And the one who came to you striving earnestly,
With fear in his heart,
You were inattentive to him.
By no means should it be so! For it is indeed a message of instruction to all people [not
only the rich].
Therefore let who so will, keep it in remembrance. (80:1–12)
Not only was the Prophet a human being, he was also a person of a particu-
lar time and a particular place. As such, he could not transcend the limitations
of his society and his times. He dressed according to the customs of his society,
he performed his daily functions within the limitations of this society, and the
environment he created around himself depended on the tools and instruments
available to him. We therefore need to separate what is particular to his time
and circumstances from what is eternal in how he lived out the message of the
Qur’an. And what are eternal in the life of Muhammad, I would argue, are his
humanity, the norms and values he exemplifies and personifies in his character
and everyday behaviour. I think it is important for Muslims to stress constantly
the Prophet’s humanity, rather than focus on the minutiae of how he looked,
how he brushed his teeth or the medicine he used.
In sura Al-Baqara, we came across a verse that I deliberately passed over. It
addressed the Prophet directly: ‘It is not for you [Prophet] to guide them; it
is God, who guides whomsoever He wills’ (2:272). It is not the Prophet, how-
ever, who needs this reminder. It is us. We need to be reminded that ultimate
guidance comes only from the Qur’an; the Prophet exemplifies aspects of how
we can translate this guidance into our lives, use it to build communities and
establish just and equitable societies: how we can interpret and live the message
of the Qur’an. This makes him an extraordinary human being.
However, the Prophet is always a conceptual model caught in the exigencies
of his own time. This caveat applies not only to details of personal habits and
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dress, but must surely extend to the circumstances by which the nascent Mus-
lim community he led secured its existence [5]. For example, the revelations
on warfare, the fight to survive as a community of faithful, addressed to
Muhammad are entirely contextual. The fact that warfare, internecine as well
as between peoples and nations, has remained a dominant feature of Muslim
history is testament to a failure of moral maturity to assert itself. Legitimising
recourse to warfare by references to the experience and actions of the Prophet
is to elevate one aspect of his life and the message he brought over and above
the extensive evidence for the demands for peaceful co-existence, for resolution
of dispute by peaceful means. The Qur’an is explicit that peace with justice and
equity for all is the objective to which human beings must strive. Islam is by
no means the only religion which has found the entirely human seduction of
imperialism and conflict an easier call to answer than the Qur’anic message of
peace-making. It is no less a blot on the comprehension of Muslims than it is
of any other people of any other faith or no faith. Finding another better way
to be human is the enduring demand inherent in divine guidance.
For me, the greatest implication of all we learn about prophethood in the
Qur’an is that of universalism. The attention given to the plurality of prophets,
named and unnamed, as well as the fact that all people have received guidance
from God, creates the most important context that challenges our understand-
ing. We have not only to reason our way through the specifics of the message
given to Muhammad and the rootedness of this revelation in his time and
place; we have also to seek the intersection of this specific revelation with the
transcendent moral vision of which all peoples and communities in history
have had their share. The Prophethood of Muhammad exists to make clear the
recurrence of God’s message and help us to transcend the limitation and nar-
rowness of our perspectives shaped by tribalisms, factionalisms, sectarianisms
or nationalisms. The search is not merely to follow the Prophet as best as we
can, but also to seek God’s pleasure as a way to realise and respond to the search
for the divine in all people, whoever they are.
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30
ABROGATION AND CHANGE
Wherever possible, I have tried to link passages in the Qur’an with events in
the life of the Prophet Muhammad. These events can be found as a continuous
narrative in classical biographies of the Prophet, known as Seerah, such as ibn
Ishaq’s Life of Muhammad, written in the eighth century [6]. The Seerah is
essential for us to discover when a particular sura, or a section within the sura,
was revealed; and give each sura a place in a definite chronology. The establish-
ment of such a chronology brought the concept of abrogation to the fore.
Abrogation is the principle by which verses revealed later in time took prece-
dence over apparently contradictory passages revealed earlier.
The principle of abrogation, or naskh, is allegedly taken from the Qur’an
itself. In 2:106, we read: ‘any of our messages that we abrogate or consign to
oblivion, We replace with a better of a similar one’. But abrogation is a rather
tricky, not to say sticky, theory. Muslim scholars differ on what it is and how
to apply it. Various classifications have been developed about what is abrogated
with what. On the whole, confusion reigns.
The most common example of abrogation we find in the literature relates to
wine and intoxicants. First, in 16:67, we are asked to reflect on where alcohol
comes from: ‘From the fruits of date palms and grapes you take sweet Juice and
wholesome provisions. There truly is a sign in this for people who use their rea-
son.’ Then we are told, in 2:219, that alcohol can be both good and bad, but the
bad outweighs the good: ‘They ask you (Prophet) about intoxicants and gam-
bling: say, “There is great sin in both, and some benefit for people: the sin is
greater than the benefit.”’ We now move to the instruction to avoid alcohol
while praying: ‘You who believe, do not come anywhere near the prayer if you
225
are intoxicated (sukara), not until you know what you are saying’ (4:43). Finally,
the believers are asked to avoid alcohol altogther: ‘You who believe! Intoxicants
and gambling, idolatrous practices, and (divining with) arrows are repugnant
acts—Satan’s doing; shun them so that you may prosper’ (5:90–91).
What is happening here is fairly clear. The rules are tightening over time as
the community adapts to its new faith. We can explain the differences in verses
by the fact that the less prohibitive verses were revealed earlier during the Mec-
can period. Which is my first problem with the theory of abrogation: the Mec-
can suras, which deal with spiritual aspects, human behaviour and issues of
morality and ethics, become systematically less important.
But this type of abrogation relies solely on agreement on the dates of the
verses in question. What if this is not patently clear? Also, we are not always
sure which verse is connected to which event in the life of the Prophet Muham-
mad. So how are we to decide in such cases which verses abrogate others?
Such complications have led scholars to disagree on exactly how many verses
in the Qur’an have been abrogated. In the eighth century, Az-Zuhri, one of
the earliest authorities on Hadith, claimed that 42 verses had been abrogated.
In the eleventh century, the number increased to 238, and then 248. Then it
went down drastically: the Egyptian theologian al-Suyuti, who flourished in
the fifteenth century, reduced it drastically to 20; and the eighteenth-century
Indian Sufi scholar Shah Wali Allah brought the number down to 5.
Moreover, what abrogates what has not been limited to the Qur’an. Some
Muslim scholars have even argued that examples and sayings of the Prophet,
the Sunna, can abrogate the Qur’an. This argument has been used, for example,
to justify stoning to death for adultery, a punishment that does not exist in the
Qur’an. As far as I am concerned, the Qur’an is the primary source of Islam;
it cannot be abrogated by the secondary source, the Sunna of the Prophet.
There are other problems with the whole notion of abrogation. One of the
verses most commonly used to justify abrogation, ‘when We substitute one
revelation for another’ (16:101), is Meccan and came before most of the Medi-
nan verses that are said to be later abrogated. It seems rather strange to me that
this verse is used to justify something that didn’t exist at the time it was
revealed. A Meccan verse cannot logically talk about abrogating something
that will happen in the future in Medina. Moreover, when we look at the few
verses used to justify abrogation, we can see that they can be interpreted in
other ways. They do not, in my opinion, refer to the passages of the Qur’an,
but earlier revelations such as the Torah and the Bible. The context of 2:106,
quoted above, shows this is the case: the verse is addressing the Jews.
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ABROGATION AND CHANGE
I think the theory of abrogation is a red herring. It has been used to tie Mus-
lim religious thought in knots, and justify the unjustifiable.
So, how do we interpret various earlier verses in the Qur’an that seem to
contradict what was revealed later in the Qur’an?
Contradictions in the Qur’an play an important creative role. They point
out that even good things can have a downside: that the pursuit of good can
sometimes lead to production of evil. They force us to consider opposite view-
points, clashing perspectives, and thus prevent us from making oversimplified
analyses. And contradictions emphasise the simultaneous and contextual logic
of the Qur’an. Staying with the theme of intoxicants, consider the two descrip-
tions of alcohol: in 16:67 alcohol is praised; but in 5:90 it is connected to
gambling and denounced. As statements, both are simultaneously true: alcohol
obviously has good qualities; but in excess it affects the mind, ‘stops you
remembering God and prayer’, and leads to socially disruptive behaviour. The
contextual logic here points in a number of directions. The excess of one thing,
which may have a good content, alcohol, can lead you towards another, totally
destructive thing, gambling. This is in fact exactly what was happening in
Mecca during the time of the Prophet. The Meccans engaged in binge drinking
which often led them to indulge in a second vice, gambling, and together the
two led them to fights, scandals and blood feuds. Similarly, the fanatical zeal
to do good, even though based on good intention, can also cloud one’s judge-
ment and lead to destructive results. The point is that good is contextual; what
may be seen as good in one particular situation may become bad in another. It
is worth noting that in describing wine in glowing terms, the Qur’an suggests
that it ‘truly is a sign for people who use their reason’. The point is that one
needs to keep a balanced, rational perspective on things. Good is not always a
priori given; it needs to be constantly interrogated, thought about and discov-
ered through sustained reasoning. And it has to be seen in a changing, dynamic
context: what is ‘wholesome’ in one context may not be so in another.
So, contradictions in the Qur’an cannot be dismissed simply as inconsis-
tency. Rather, they suggest that the world is not amenable to one-dimensional
solutions, and no particular partial view can encompass the whole. Verses that
appear contradictory often expand on what was said earlier, or explore the same
issue from a different perspective or in a different context. To prove a particular
point, the Qur’an uses one argument and sometimes another. It explores the
same idea in different contexts, so that verses about the same topics can have
different aspects. The underlying themes that emerge relate to change, chang-
ing contexts, multiple perspectives and constant struggle to discover what
constitutes goodness in particular circumstances.
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The whole notion of change and changing contexts is quite evident from
the wine verses we have been looking at. There are three ideas of change in
these verses: first, the commands relating to alcohol are changing; second, the
society that the Qur’an is talking about is evolving and changing; and finally,
the context that the Qur’an is dealing with is itself changing. The obvious thing
to note is that this change is not instantaneous; it does not involve a major
upheaval or a revolution. It is a gradual, evolutionary change. While emphasis-
ing that change is essential, the Qur’an insists that it should be measured and
lead to social and cultural transformation without turmoil or violence. It is not
change that should lead society; rather, society should lead change.
Equally important is the point that change necessitates shifts in perspective.
As Muslim society develops and changes, moves from Mecca to Medina, the
theme of alcohol gets a different expression at each stage. Different perspec-
tives on alcohol are revealed at different stages, enabling the Muslim commu-
nity to adjust to change; and it is forbidden only when Muslim society has
reached a level of maturity in Medina. What this suggests is not that one verse
is abrogated by another, but that a society has to be able to fulfil certain criteria
before it can implement particular injunctions of the Qur’an; and that it is
necessary for a society to adjust to change as it evolves and changes itself.
The apparent contradictions and changes in expression according to context
are the Qur’an’s way of teaching how to separate the permanent from the tem-
porary, the transient from the abiding: how to change while remaining, in
terms of worldview, values and norms, the same. When the teachings of the
Qur’an are understood to exclude all possibility of change—which is what the
theory of abrogation is all about—the end result is to make static what is essen-
tially dynamic in nature. A society that claims to be based on God-given eter-
nal values cannot function without wrestling with and striving to reconcile the
categories of permanence and change. Muslims have singularly failed in this
regard over the last few centuries. That is why they seem to be stuck in historic
times.
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31
TIME AND HISTORY
The themes of time, the dynamics of change, and processes and patterns of
history are interwoven throughout the Qur’an. The titles of some chapters,
particularly the suras revealed in Mecca and found towards the end of the
Sacred Text, focus our attention on the nature of time. These headings describe
the phases of the day: ‘Dawn’ (103), ‘The Morning Brightness’ (93), ‘The
Declining Day’ (103), ‘The Night’ (92). There is a sense of movement in the
titles themselves; and we can extrapolate that just as the day changes into night,
time and history also continue to move. Other titles draw our attention to
future time: ‘That which is coming’ (56) and ‘The Inevitable Hour’ (69), sug-
gesting that time and history are heading towards a final conclusion, a singular-
ity, if you like.
My favourite sura, chapter 103, which is frequently recited at the end of a
meeting or a gathering, directly invites us to ‘consider time’. Its Arabic title is
Al-‘Asr, a word that has a number of connotations all relating to time. In every-
day parlance, it is translated as afternoon, as in ‘the ‘Asr prayer’. But the term
embodies the notion of movement. Hence, some translators, such as Pickthall
and Haleem, render it as ‘The Declining Day’. But it can also simply mean
‘time’, or as Asad translates it, ‘The Flight of Time’, or as Yusuf Ali has it, ‘Time
Through the Ages’. The emphasis is on movement of time, a time that cannot
be recaptured. The sura suggests that time is valuable, it should be seen as an
opportunity to pursue truth and do good, otherwise it would be lost and we
would be lost along with it. The whole chapter reads: ‘Consider the flight of
time! Man is bound to lose himself, except those who believe, do good deeds,
urge one another to truth, and urge one another to steadfastness’ (103:1–3).
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Man is therefore trapped in time, which is constantly changing. Indeed, the

Qur’an suggests that change is the inevitable corollary of life: everything
changes; except, of course, God who is Timeless and above time: ‘Say, “He is
God the one, God the eternal”’ (112:1–2). All creation is thus not only subject
to change but has to accommodate and adjust to change, or ‘lose’ itself. Indeed,
even the Word of God (not to be confused with God Himself ) is subject to
change, as we read in 16:101: ‘We substitute one revelation for another.’ So
God Himself changes His Word according to the needs of time and the inevi-
table changes of circumstance. The Prophet too had to accommodate to
change: first he prayed facing Jerusalem, then, after the instruction from the
Qur’an, he changed his direction towards Mecca (2:142, 144). So change is
the only constant in the universe.
Time changes and moves on, but it has certain characteristics: it is relative;
it may flow at different rates in different settings. There will be a ‘Day whose
length is fifty thousand years’ (70:4); and there is a night, ‘The Night of Glory’,
which can extend to ‘a thousand months’ (97:4). It is perceived differently by
different people with different perspectives. We see this in the parable of the
‘Companions of the Cave’. The young men were seeking refuge; they asked,
‘Our Lord, grant us Your mercy, and find us a way out of our ordeal.’ They hid
in a cave and slept: ‘We sealed their ears in the cave for years.’ But when they
woke up, they could not figure out how long they had slept, and thought they
had only slept ‘a day or part of a day’ (18:10–11, 19). So a very long period of
time can be perceived as short; and vice versa.
There was time before we appeared on this earth. The opening verse of
chapter 76, which has the dual title of ‘Man’ (or rather human being) and
‘Time’, asks: ‘Was there not a period of time before man, when he was not yet
a thing to be thought of ?’ There is a dual suggestion here: that there was time
before man appeared on the planet, and there was time before an individual
is born ‘out of a drop of sperm’ (76:1–2). Moreover, time does not end with
one’s life. It is still there in that the world continues. But it is also still there
for the person who is no longer alive, in the sense that his or her deeds, good
or bad, continue to affect the environment and history—right up to the
‘Inevitable Hour’.
What about the time in-between, after birth and before death, the time of
our lives, the time we spend on this earth? It is, of course, quite trivial in cosmic
terms. But we perceive it rather differently. Preoccupied with our busy lives,
we seldom contemplate the fact that our time on earth is very limited. Unless
some calamity forces us to reflect on our mortality, we seem to think and
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behave as though we will live forever. Some even chase immortality, through
medicine and magical portions, through fame and fortune, through techno-
logical defiance of the inevitable. But we ought to contemplate just how truly
short our lives actually are. Even shorter than we perceive, as the dialogue with
God on the Day of Judgement hints:
He will say: ‘How long did you remain on earth, in number of years?’
They will respond: ‘We remained for a day or part thereof. Ask those who count.’
He will say: ‘You remained only a short while, if only you knew.’ (23:112–14)
The suggestion is that our time on earth is precious. It should not be devoted
to seeking pleasures, or, as the title of chapter 102 states, ‘Striving for More’,
for which there is ‘No need’. Those ‘who amass riches, counting them over,
thinking they will make them live forever’ (104:1–3) ought to think again.
The person ‘who pushes aside the orphan and does not urge others to feed the
needy’, those ‘who pray but are heedless of their prayers’, and ‘those who are all
show and forbid common kindness’ ought to consider future time (107:1–7)
in two respects: the costs of their actions for future generations and the home
they leave behind (the theme of nature and environment explored in chapter
38); and the consequences of their behaviour for the life after death and the
home they may inhabit in eternal time, which begins on the ‘Day when people
will be like scattered moths and the mountains like tufts of wool, the one
whose good deeds are heavy on the scales will have a pleasant life, but the one
whose good deeds are light will have the Bottomless Pit for his home’ (101:49).
Again and again, the Qur’an urges its readers not to ‘love the fleeting life’
(76:27), but to provide for the time and life to come. This life is life in precious
time: we ‘will have stayed [in this world] no longer than a single hour’ (10:43).
We are urged to make the best use of this time and pay heed to our life in the
Hereafter, where time has a different measure.
The time before us also needs special attention. The Qur’an gives particular
consideration to history and is full of historical passages. But it is not history
as we know it: chronological, detailed analysis of events and personalities, a
comprehensive narrative of good and bad old days. Rather the Qur’an uses
history as a guide to the pitfalls of the future. The emphasis is always on the
lessons that can be drawn from the historical narrative. The short picturesque
passage at the beginning of ‘Daybreak’ is a good example:
Have you [Prophet] considered how your Lord dealt with [the people] of Ad, or Iram,
[the city] of lofty pillars, whose like has never been made in any land, and the Thamud,
who hewed into the rocks in the valley, and the mighty and powerful Pharoah? All of
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them committed excess in their lands, and spread corruption there: your Lord let a
scrounge of punishment loose on them. Your Lord is always watchful. (89:6–10)
The sura goes on to contrast history with human nature. The main theme
is how oppression, greed and love of wealth destroy people and places, cul-
tures and civilisations, converting their glory and greatness to decay and
destruction.
The narratives of ancient people in the Qur’an are used for four specific
purposes. First, to encourage the study of history: ‘many ways of life have
passed away before your time. Travel about the earth and see what has hap-
pened to those who gave lie to truth’ (3:137). Second, to promote the develop-
ment of historiography: what use is the study of history if one cannot develop
theories and ideas on ideologies, cultures and social foundations which bring
power and prosperity to nations and civilisations or lead them into decay? The
analysis of time past ‘should be a clear lesson for all men, and guidance’ (3:138).
Third, the believers are challenged to redeem the history of the future; to put
these lessons into practice. Like Moses, history can be used ‘to bring your
people out of the depth of darkness into the light’; and serve as a reminder for
‘all who are patient and grateful in adversity’ (14:5). And finally, as an accu-
mulation of these goals, to infuse a consciousness of history.
History in the Qur’an is thus presented as the motor of change [7]. While
change is constant, leading either to progress or to decay, there are certain his-
torical reasons behind every change. The Qur’an does not want believers to
accept change passively, inevitable though this is, but to change things actively.
It seeks, I would argue, to release the moral energy of people and societies to
shape history and hence make genuine progress.
Not surprisingly, progress in Qur’anic terms is not based on wealth, technol-
ogy or splendour. Civilisations rise and fall; cultures flourish and decay; ebb
and flow in power are transitory fluctuations. All superpowers and technologi-
cal civilisations have allotted periods: ‘there is an appointed term for each com-
munity, and when it is reached they can neither delay nor hasten it, even for a
moment’ (74:49). What matters in the final analysis is not might, power, the
affluence of material means or even the accumulation of knowledge, but righ-
teous conduct.
I think the Qur’an is suggesting that righteous behaviour and good deeds
should be the greatest legacy of time and history, which is a sad reflection on
all humanity. Our time on earth is connected to the time that went before us
and the time that will come after us: all woven into a tapestry in which time
and eternity exist together. Even though we are embedded in our own time,
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we ought to be aware of other dimensions and perspectives on time, and take

them into account as we live our lives. We should remember that all history
has contemporary relevance. Each generation sees episodes of history from its
own perspective. Each generation must draw its own lessons from history, and
move forward by adjusting to change. For when all is said and done, ‘God does
not change the condition of a people unless they first change their conditions
themselves’ (13:11).
Time and history are perhaps the best examples of themes by which the
Qur’an seeks to challenge the limitations and complacency of our understand-
ing. Revelation demands that we constantly think outside the box of our
earthly concerns by keeping in mind the intersection of time and timelessness.
The point of intersection is ever-present; but what it demands, counsels and
guides us to may need to be different in every instance. If we stand firm on
time, the model and example limited to just one narrow vision of time and one
instance of the intersection with history, we can, and probably inevitably will,
end by bringing evil or the unconscionable from good, by neglecting the good
we should be engaged on putting into action. Tradition is a human construct
fashioned in time; it is the legacy of history which the Qur’an suggests is nei-
ther substitute nor a sure approximation of righteousness. The only tradition
worthy of the Qur’anic vision is one that continually redefines itself by the
pertinence and appropriateness of its moral and ethical precepts to deal with
the issues of today.
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TRUTH AND PLURALITY
The plurality of religion is a constant and reccurring theme in the Qur’an. Far
from adopting a hostile attitude to other religions, the Qur’an promotes accep-
tance of religious plurality and treats other religions with equality. It recognises
that different faiths have different laws and ways of knowing and understand-
ing God, but emphasises the common ground of ‘doing good’: values and mor-
als that promote goodness, virtue and peace are integral to all faiths and more
basic than differences in outward form and rituals. The challenge for humanity
is to come together in peace and harmony, despite religious and theological
differences.
We have already seen that the Qur’an uses stories from the Old and the New
Testaments to illustrate some of its arguments. Both the Torah and the Bible
are regarded by the Qur’an as revealed texts. ‘It was God’, we are told, ‘who
revealed the Torah (to Moses): therein was guidance and light’ (5:44). And to
Moses, God said: ‘I have chosen you for Myself. Go, you and your brother,
with My signs, and make sure that you remember me’ (20:41–2). Regarding
the New Testament and Jesus, we read: ‘We sent Jesus, son of Mary: We gave
him the Gospel and put compassion and mercy in the heart of his followers’
(57:27). The ‘name of God is commemorated in abundant measure’, not just
in mosques but also ‘in monasteries, churches, synagogue’ (22:46). The term
used in the Qur’an to describe both Jewish and Christian communities is
‘People of the Book’, who are said to be constantly ‘humbling themselves before
God’ and who ‘will have their rewards with their Lord’ (3:199).
Despite this, controversy has arisen relating to certain verses which are used
to argue that the Qur’an does not look at Jews with favour. Verse 5:82 is a good
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example: ‘You Prophet’, we read, ‘are sure to find that the most hostile to the
believers are the Jews and those who associate other deities with God; you are
sure to find that the closest in affection are those who say “We are Christians”
for there are people devoted to learning and ascetics.’ The context of this verse
has a familiar contemporary ring. It was revealed in Medina where the Jews
exercised considerable political power. Moreover, the Meccans who migrated
to that city with the Prophet were canny businessmen, and the Jewish clans
who predominated in certain crafts feared that the migrants would capture
their trade; hence the animosity. The verse describes the particular situation
in Medina at a particular point in time. And at that time it represents a very
human situation, one which posed a challenge to the nascent Muslim com-
munity. In no instance is it more important to remind ourselves that the
Qur’an is not and cannot be reduced to a record of the doings of the Prophet
and the first Muslim community in all their fallibility. The record of their deal-
ings with the Jewish community in and around Medina is problematic, and
part and parcel of the conflict of the time. It is not a general ruling. The Qur’an
is the compendium of God’s guidance for all people for all time, which looks
beyond the exigencies of even an era of Prophethood. We can be sure the par-
ticular relations of the first Muslims and the Jews of Medina are not general
propositions: it could hardly be so since it would violate what the Qur’an is
saying repeatedly elsewhere.
Jews and Muslims, I think, are closer to each other than Muslims and Chris-
tians. Both have similar codes of conduct, laws and jurisprudence (the Shari‘a
in Islam and the Halacha in Judaism). The dietary arrangements of both reli-
gions are almost the same (halal and kosher); and charity is an important fea-
ture of both (sadaka and tsedaka). This is why, I think, Jews and Muslims have
had excellent relations in history: when persecuted in Christendom, Jews
always found a welcoming refuge in Muslim lands; in Moorish Spain, Jews and
Muslims produced a dynamic, learned society with a strong accent on multi-
culturalism [8].
But regardless of 5:82, Muslims and Christians have not enjoyed a close
relationship in history. I think this is largely because of the Christian doctrine
that salvation can be obtained only through Christ. In history, Christianity
made orthodox belief and rigorous policing of heresy the foundation of citizen-
ship. Beyond the ambit of orthodox Christianity existed only those who were
deemed inherently inimical and hostile. It was an exclusivist concept, not a
recipe for ecumenical courtesy. It produced a history which continues to cast
a long shadow over contemporary events and attitudes [9].
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TRUTH AND PLURALITY
But it is not only Judaism and Christianity that are based on revealed Truth.
The Qur’an also mentions another community: the Sabians (2:62). In the
Prophet’s Medina, the Sabians were those who believed in divine mystery and
followed the Gnostic path. In contemporary times, I would argue, the Sabians
represent all those with mystical tendencies, who promote self-awareness of
God and ‘do good’. For these people too, we are told, ‘there is no fear’: ‘they
shall have their reward from their Lord’. We can expand this circle of faith com-
munities even wider. If prophets have been sent to every nation, then every
religious community has some aspects of the Divine Truth. Sufi scholars in
India, for example, have argued that Ram and Krishna, highly revered in Hin-
duism, could be prophets. And Hindus are a people of the Book as they have
the Vedas, which contain an abstract idea of God and describe Ishwar (God)
as without shape and human attributes (nirankar and nirgun), a notion not
too far removed from the monotheistic conception of God. And Sikhs, with
their emphasis on the Unity of God and reliance on the teachings of Sufi
saints, are clearly a faith community with aspects of Divine Truth. Such con-
siderations led Shah Waliullah, the eighteenth Indian reformist Sufi, to pos-
tulate the idea of wahdat al-deen or ‘unity of religions’ [10]: an idea that has
common currency amongst Sufis.
I think that the Qur’an supports this position. Every community, we are
told, has ‘appointed acts of devotion’ (22:34), symbolic ways of worshipping
and adoring God. And we read in 2:148, ‘each community has its own direc-
tion to which it turns’. Every faith community has its own individual path that
it takes towards God and finds its own way ‘to do good’ and be virtuous.
Thus, the Qur’an envisages a religiously plural world, where different com-
munities share different aspects of the Divine Truth. Each religion is unique
in its beliefs, rituals and forms of worship. But underneath the external differ-
ences there is an internal unity; and the Qur’an places a strong accent on this
unity. The emphasis should lead us to appreciate religious pluralism as well as
promote religious harmony.
Of course, this is not always the case. Some may even argue it is seldom the
case. I would certainly agree that while Muslims always take pride in the record
of tolerance and multiculturalism in their history, in today’s world we do not
live up to our heritage. And even our view of history may have too rosy a glow.
Muslims are often too complacent, too ready to overstate their case, rather than
investigate their failings. Communal tensions, political expediency and the
dictates of power have been features of Muslim polities as of other societies.
And when we are stiff-necked and indulge in holier than thou attitudes
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towards other faiths, we are explicitly out of line with the spirit and the letter
of the Qur’an.
To promote religious harmony in a world of religious plurality, the Qur’an
provides a number of guidelines. First, the faith communities are urged not to
take an extremist position: ‘People of the Book do not go to excess in your
religion, and do not say anything about God except the truth’ (4:171). Second,
they are urged to deal with each other in the best of all possible ways: when
arguing about God they should argue in the ‘most courteous way’ (16:125)
and ‘say what is best’ (17:53). Third, they are advised not to revile the beliefs
of each other, indeed even the beliefs of the polytheists (6:108); and, when
accosted by others for their own beliefs, they are urged to ‘walk humbly on
earth’ and reply: ‘Peace’ (25:63).
Of course, treating each other with respect, and speaking in a gentle and
kind manner, is sometimes just not enough, particularly when it concerns fun-
damental religious differences. Here, the Qur’an offers an ultimate fallback
position: declare a truce and move on:
Say: ‘O unbelievers! I do not worship what you worship,
Nor do you worship what I worship;
Nor will I ever worship what you worship,
Nor will you ever worship what I worship,
You have your religion,
And I have mine.’ (109:1–6).
The most important guidance given by the Qur’an, however, is a riposte to

all people of all faiths: that God Alone knows all! It is a reminder that ulti-
mately faiths define their differences in terms of practise, worship and rituals,
ordered by theological, that is human, interpretation. But flawed human beings
can have only a tenuous hold on weighty theological distinctions about the
nature of God, the Hereafter, the nature and circumstances of forgiveness and
redemption and other such issues. Yet it is a consistent feature of human nature
to contend and argue, to go to war to kill and to die for the sake of what we
can never know nor of which in this life can we possess the whole truth; only
God Alone knows the answer to these questions and will make them clear to
us, not in this world but only in the next. All the etiquette the Qur’an offers
about religious debate underscores this point; just as all it has to say about
human communities over complicating and over interpreting and turning rev-
elation to their own ends makes the same point.
It may be human to be fascinated by imponderable questions relating to
faith, what we regard as the big questions of existence. But what the Qur’an is
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TRUTH AND PLURALITY
also telling us clearly and repeatedly is that giving in to this impulse—the desire
to appropriate and domesticate God to our level of understanding and pro-
nounce definitively on matters that belong to God alone—is the most basic
distraction from the true path of faith, which is doing good, bringing forth
justice and equity in ourselves, the life of our society and relations with other
peoples.
Instead of focusing attention on what we can never know in this existence,
the Qur’an again and again insists that the true testament of faith is harnessing
all our intelligence, energy and commitment for those things we can affect. It
is within our power, indeed it is the true meaning of a life of faith, to work to
change ourselves and the societies in which we live to ensure the dignity of
every human being, and that we nurture and husband every part of God’s cre-
ation. Anything that diverts us from the enormity of making the right and
appropriate moral and ethical choices that lead us toward the betterment of
the human condition is, in the Qur’anic view, a waste of time and energy. God
consciousness, the motive force of faith, is about doing, making and being, not
contorting our understanding by trying to ponder the mind of God. Instead
of arguing over theological issues, we should ensure that there is freedom,
equity, fairness and accountability in human societies, that there is full partici-
pation for everyone, no matter what they believe or who they are. We have to
ensure the eradication of poverty and give everyone the dignity of fair wages
and gainful employment according to their abilities, economic justice for all
and education for all. These are only some of the explicit areas of human life
to which the Qur’an devotes particular attention and which thus become the
substance of living faith. These problems are hard enough to tackle, as history
and our own day prove again and again. But they are essential tests of our faith.
At the core of all religion is this selfsame message, so collaborating on the
moral challenge of daily life is the clearest proof of God consciousness, how-
ever we conceive of or worship God.
The Qur’an’s pragmatic approach to religious pluralism is really quite amaz-
ing. There is no notion of supremacy here. Believers of all faiths, and none, are
urged to recognise that religious differences exist and will continue to exist.
They are asked to put their differences aside and collaborate with each other:
‘Say, “People of the Book, let us arrive at a statement that is common to us
all’ (3:64).
I find the idea that Islam will somehow reign supreme and dominate the
world, believed by some Muslims, to be errant nonsense from the perspective
of the Qur’an. The Qur’an does not expect, or indeed suggest, that everyone
239
will accept Islam or that the world will become a monolithic religious entity
under the tutelage of some imagined global ‘Islamic Caliphate’, as some Mus-
lims would have us believe. But it does expect that everyone should have the
freedom to believe what they wish—let there be no compulsion in religion—
and that believers of different religions can and should co-exist in harmony
and mutual respect. Humanity is one; but it is a humanity that thrives on
diversity and difference—as we shall see in the topic of the next chapter.
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HUMANITY AND DIVERSITY
Equality is a recurrent theme of the Qur’an. All human beings are ‘the children
of Adam’ and have been ‘honoured’ and made to ‘excel’ (17:70). Furthermore,
as God’s creation we become truly human when the breath or spirit of God is
breathed into each and every one of us. Therefore, we all deserve to be treated
with equality and dignity.
But the Qur’an goes on to make some more explicit points. All human
beings, whatever their creed, race, class and culture, are equal, we are told. And
it is not just the individuals who deserve respect. The ‘diversity of your tongues
and colours’, we read in 30:20, are ‘His signs’. So discrimination is forbidden
not just on the basis of colour, but also on the basis of language and culture.
The Qur’an insists that all languages and cultures are equal, equally important
for maintaining diversity, and have to be valued equally. Thus Arabic is as
important as, say, Swahili, Urdu or English; one language cannot claim supe-
riority over the other. And the culture of, for example, Australian Aborigines
is as important and deserving of respect as European cultures. One cannot
assimilate the other; or relegate the other to the margins.
In the ‘diversity of your tongues’, the Qur’an tells us, ‘there are messages’ for
those ‘who posses knowledge’ (30:22). What could these messages be? One
obvious message is that diversity and difference are the very essence of God’s
creation. Everything exists in multiples and in diverse forms. Only the uncre-
ated God is one. Another message, I think, is that diversity is a prerequisite for
survival itself. When diversity is diminished—a language disappears, one cul-
ture is assimilated into another, flora and fauna are eradicated—we and our
world are diminished. Diversity makes it possible for us to exist and live in our
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terrestrial abode and thrive. Equally, it enables us to engage with one another,
to recognise each other, and hence to know each other. This is the subject of
one of my favourite verses in the Qur’an: ‘O humankind! We have created you
male and female, and made you nations and tribes, that you may know one
another’ (49:13). Recognition through difference does seem somewhat para-
doxical. But the paradox here is more apparent than real. The verse, I think,
provides another advance on our understanding of diversity, adding the politi-
cal and social entities within which we live to the list of purposeful and mean-
ingful diversity of human existence [11].
What is it we can know of each other if we live in different nations, with
different religions, different languages, being people of different races and cul-
tures? It seems to me these are the elements that define identity. And to me
the Qur’an is saying that identity is central to our capacity as human beings
first to know ourselves and then through knowing ourselves as God’s creation
know other people equally as God’s creation. Only when we are grounded in
our own identity can we learn how to extend to others the obligations and
responsibilities, the rights and the duties we claim for ourselves.
The challenge the Qur’an poses is one that has endured through human his-
tory and that in most instances people have flunked: to be able to see ourselves
in and through the differences between our own way of life and that of other
people. But it has to be said that Muslims were more tolerant in history than
they are nowadays. It is easy to care for and respect people who look, talk,
think, act and believe as we do. This is as true of Muslims as of other civilisa-
tions, peoples and nations, now and in history. The test for us all is to see com-
mon humanity and the possibility of working for the common good in people
who have different beliefs and are radically different from us.
There is another element we should not forget in the intentional nature the
Qur’an gives to the diversity of human identity. We learn about the world by
coming to know the place where we are born, the people among whom we
live—our family and community—and through the wider associations of our
tribe or nationality. We domesticate our knowledge, and this is necessary. Dif-
ferences of place, environment, of culture and all the elements of diverse iden-
tity are therefore necessary parts of the knowledge we need to care for the
entirety of God’s creation. No one people can or will know everything about
the diversity of the world; we need each other and the differences in our identi-
ties, experience and knowledge to survive and thrive.
The Qur’an clearly guides us to appreciate, to cherish and learn from the
diversity of human identity and the positive contributions it makes to human
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HUMANITY AND DIVERSITY
existence. But as history demonstrates, there is a catch. Human frailty leads

people time and again to fall so in love with their own identity that, instead of
valuing it, diversity becomes a source of fear. Other people become a threat.
Preserving our own identity becomes a reason for war, for seeking to dominate
and even eradicate other people. The Qur’an concludes the verse that explains
the purpose of identity with the antidote to vainglorious nationalism: ‘the
noblest of you in the sight of God is the one who is most deeply conscious of
Him’ (49:13). The competition between peoples of different identities is the
common challenge to be conscious of God and live according to God’s guid-
ance, as we each know and understand it. And if we abide in God conscious-
ness we cannot disrespect, let alone harm, anything of God’s creation, no
matter how strange or bizarre it may appear.
The verses dealing with human diversity move in tandem with the verses we
looked at in the previous chapter on religious plurality. Both lead to the same
conclusion. Diversity and difference are necessary, they form the basis on
which we must find ways to focus on the things we can control as we work to
bring forth justice and equity on the basis of fair dealing, dignity and respect
for all people, no matter who they are, nor how different they are. National,
cultural and even religious identity, the traditions in which we are brought up,
are not ends in and of themselves. They are the means at our disposal to appre-
ciate the true meaning of what is universal. Our identity is the means through
which we come to know God, and it is God the Creator of all in all its diversity
who is truly universal. God consciousness is not one size and one way fits all.
Being conscious of God is how we can come to do right by each other, respect-
ing all the different ways there are to achieve the same ends of justice and
equity for all by doing, thinking and being different.
It is a great step, but through knowing the humanity of other people in all
their differences we can also come closer to knowing God. By being conscious
of the oneness and supremacy of God, we should gain the compassion and
insight to know other people and respect them as they deserve.
When we reflect on all the human misery and bloodshed caused by racial
hatred and nationalism; when we reflect that these horrors are not dead letters,
things of the past but active deformities today in so many places around the
globe; we can measure how far we fall short of true God consciousness, who-
ever we are, wherever we live and however we worship. This much we do know.
Clearly, what remains for us to learn is how to do differently by one another.
I think the Qur’an’s outlook on pluralism is particularly relevant in an age
when the foundations of identity seem to be weakening [12]. We talk of mul-
243
tiple identities and ‘ethnic minorities’, but we seem to be unsure of how we are
supposed to ‘live together’ while maintaining distinctive and different identi-
ties; or indeed how it is possible to have complex and multifaceted identities.
And we also have, throughout the world, the weakening of family structures
and neighbourliness. Modernity undermines the small-scale units that should
be the building blocks even of mass society. The small scale of family and
neighbourhood, of face-to-face relationships, are where we learn, or should
learn, the basics of moral and ethical action and compassion, tolerance and
live and let live. It is far harder to appreciate the meaning of these concepts in
the abstract, about society en masse, without the practical lessons of give and
take necessary to live in strong families and vibrant neighbourhoods. It seems
to me we need a great deal of courage and inspired thinking to have the con-
fidence to value the differences of our identity and go forward together to
build a society where all these differences do not separate us but enable us to
come together more fully as a community or a nation. This is what the Qur’an
is telling us. And this, it seems to me, is the real objective we all should be
working towards.
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INDIVIDUAL AND COMMUNITY
The central aim of the Qur’an is to establish a just and equitable social order.
Each individual and society as a whole, working through its institutions and
agencies, has a role to play in this endeavour. We can only realise our full poten-
tial to be good people individually if we all work together to create the condi-
tions that support, encourage and promote well-being and betterment for all
people. Therefore there should be no tension between the individual and soci-
ety, since both should share a common goal.
The basic proposition in the Qur’an is that none of us is or can be an island.
We might be able to imagine living on a desert island, but that is no realistic
model for how we actually live. We exist only in connection to other people:
our family, our neighbourhood, our community and country. All our memories
are about our school, our workplace, our place of worship, the clubs, associa-
tions we join, the friends we hang around with: places full of other people as
well as ourselves. Since we’re stuck with other people, the only important ques-
tion is: how do we make the best possible world for ourselves in relation to
other people? And that requires doing right by others, so that they will be fair
with us. Quite clearly, the Qur’anic vision is at odds with the proposition
coined most famously by Jean-Paul Sartre that ‘hell is other people’ [13]. As
we have already seen in considering the themes of plurality and diversity, other
people are not only unavoidable, but learning how to deal with them justly and
equitably, with dignity and respect is essential to righteousness, perhaps a
major aspect of genuine worship of God.
The term the Qur’an uses for ‘community’ is umma. It is a concept much
abused nowadays. For extremists, the umma is some sort of monolithic entity
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that must be ruled by a global Caliphate. For some non-Muslims, umma sug-
gests that Muslims living in the West cannot be trusted, indeed represent a
fifth column or potential enemy within, because they can never be fully loyal
to the country they have adopted as their home. To me, both ideas are utter
nonsense.
Both views fail to realise that umma is a moral concept. As we see from 58:7,
‘there is no secret conversation between three people where He is not the
fourth, nor between five where He is not the sixth, nor between less or more
than that without Him being with them, whoever they may be’. In Christianity,
the idea that Christ is present in community, that a church is the body of
Christ, is central. In Islam, the moral glue that holds a community together is
God. But both Islam and Christianity agree that the experience of God is to
be found in relationships, in the connections between people, in how a group
of people become a community.
The single most important implication of umma is not that Muslims are a
global community, but that Muslims should be defined by how they become
a community in relation to each other, other communities, and the natural
world. The umma exists in the efforts we make in thought and action to live
up to and live out the moral precepts of the Qur’an. Moreover, the umma is
not a single cultural entity, as we discussed in the last chapter; it is composed
of nations and tribes, colours and tongues, the purposeful units into which we
are born. What unites this umma is common moral purpose. So this commu-
nity does not follow the lead of any one group, such as the Arabs, but seeks to
achieve the same moral ends through and within the diversity of all its con-
stituent groups. As both concept and practice, it is meant to be a demonstra-
tion of diversity within unity. In other words, there may be many ways to
achieve the same purpose; so long as the means and ends are consistent with
the moral guidance and precepts of the Qur’an, no one way is inherently better
than another.
As practice, the umma exists as far as Muslims follow the injunctions of the
Qur’an [14]. Muslims, we have already seen, are described as a ‘middle com-
munity’ (2:143): a balanced umma. By following the law of equity and estab-
lishing justice with dignity and compassion for all, they become ‘the best
umma singled out for people’ (3:110). Being a community means that ‘the
believers are brothers’ (49:10); ‘the believing men and the believing women
are friends and allies one to another’ (9:71); and collectively they are as impreg-
nable ‘as a building reinforced with lead’ (61:4). The individual members of
the community have responsibilities, some of which are mentioned in 49:11:
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‘Believers, no one group of men should jeer at another, who may after all be
better than them; no one group of women should jeer at another, who may
after all be better than them; do not speak ill of one another; do not use offen-
sive names for one another.’ The best individuals in this umma, the Qur’an tells
us, are those who are the most pious and God-fearing or have taqwa (49:13).
It is the concept of taqwa, I think, that relates individuals to society. Most
Muslims think that taqwa is acquired through prayer and devotion, reading
the Qur’an and engaging in extra worship (dhikr, remembering God) in the
middle of the night. Now, of course, taqwa has this personal dimension, which
is about strengthening our relationship to God. But I think taqwa must also
manifest itself through our human relationships, our relations with all of God’s
creations. As we strive individually to appreciate the attributes and nature of
God, so we must try in our own imperfect way to reflect these qualities towards
all that is also part of what God has created. For me, taqwa is a sign of how you
treat those who are less fortunate than you, how loving and caring you are, how
you display humility and respect, how you interact with your environment,
how you participate in building a viable and dynamic community. And it is
not something that you acquire or advertise; it is something that is recognised
in you by others, the community and society.
The social activity that binds Muslim society together, what makes the
umma the best community, is that it ‘enjoins good and forbids evil’ (3:104,
110; 9:71). Now I must admit that this is one of the most misused injunctions
of the Qur’an. It is used as a charter by all self-appointed moral supervisors
who think they know what is best for everyone else. In its worse forms, we have
the state-sponsored moral police harassing citizens for alleged moral shortcom-
ings in Saudi Arabia and Iran. But the injunction has nothing to do with moral
policing.
The principle of doing good and preventing bad is that both individual and
society work in harmony to promote virtue; both ‘cling firmly together by
means of God’s rope’ (3:103). I consider this to mean we have to concentrate
not only on individual acts of goodness, but also work to ensure that the insti-
tutions and organisations of our society are fit for the purpose of giving every-
one the best opportunity to fulfil their potential and flourish. It is about
making the right choices about the provision of services—everything from
energy and sewage to schools and hospitals—so that the needs of all people
are catered for. It is about building peace, ensuring mutual tolerance, working
for and insisting on good government: all actions necessary to build taqwa in
a society. It is about making reasoned and informed choices about science and
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technology and all the ethical questions they raise. It is about inclusion and
participation for all people in the life of society; no individual or group can
attribute absolute power to themselves to determine the affairs of the com-
munity or to arbitrate on the issues of morality and ethics. Rather, the affairs
of the community should be determined by mutual consultation (42:38). This
was the way of Prophet Muhammad himself (3:159); and this must be the way
of Muslim community and society.
Unifying all these efforts is the recognition that both the individual and the
community are accountable before God. God will judge what individuals do
within a community and how the community itself behaves as a collective.
The most basic social unit on which the Qur’an focuses most attention is
the family. But the family it envisions is not a nuclear family consisting only
of your spouse and children; it is both your parents and grandparents and all
your relatives [15]. This extended family includes even your friends and neigh-
bours. ‘Be good to your parents, to relatives, to orphans, to the needy, to neigh-
bours near and far’ (4:36). Again and again, the Qur’an asks the believers to
be kind to their parents (31:14; 46:15–16; 17:23–5) and look after them in
their old age. Mothers in particular are singled out for attention: ‘his mother
bears him with one fainting spell after another fainting spell’, ‘she gives birth
to him painfully’ and ‘weans him for two years’. Never, we are told, say to either
parent: ‘Ugh, nor scold either of them’, the Arabic term used in the Qur’an,
‘uf’’, being a sound indicative of contempt, dislike and disdain.
Living with other people requires that we respect their individuality and
freedom to be themselves, so we are required to respect each other’s privacy.
This injunction is given a specific form in 24:27–8 where the believers are
asked ‘not to enter other people’s houses until you have asked permission to
do so’. But ‘entering a house’ I think should be taken as an example of the gen-
eral principle of not violating the privacy of others in any way. Moreover, Mus-
lims are instructed not to annoy, slander or defame each other. ‘Those who
undeservedly insult believing men and women’, we are told, have committed
a ‘flagrant sin’ (33:58). And when the believers hear a lie, ‘they should think
well of their own people and declare “this is obviously a lie”’ (24:12).
The Qur’an emphasises mutual trust, family life, individual responsibility,
taqwa and community building to avoid what it calls fitna. The believers sup-
port one another, we read in 8:73, because if they don’t, ‘there will be persecu-
tion in the land and great corruption’. Fitna has a number of meanings,
including temptation, sedition, persecution, treachery, dissension and corrup-
tion. We are all responsible for working to ensure these scourges do not take
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root in our society, or if they exist for bringing them to an end. Where fitna
exists it will inevitably undermine the moral basis of society and lead it towards
self-destruction, which includes destroying the physical environment in which
we live.
How we live together is the measure of not only our humanity but our faith
and consciousness of God. Finding the right balance between individualism
and common endeavour is the key to self-preservation and the preservation of
the standards and guidance of the Qur’an. The Qur’an argues that an egalitar-
ian society, based on mutual trust, where the individual and community work
for the same common goals, is the best way for all to prosper and thrive.
In a time of rampant individualism we are weaned, it seems, to follow Sartre
in finding other people an impediment to our self-actualisation, the self-real-
isation of our own personal desires. As the distinction between the rich and
famous, the gap between the wealthiest and the rest becomes ever more
extreme, a pervasive culture of envy spurs an individualist creed concerned
with getting the best one can for oneself. I would not say this equates exactly
to ‘and devil take the hindmost’. But at the centre of social and political life,
there is the ongoing argument about individual and collective provision for
the basic services that sustain and nurture well-being. The Qur’an argues this
is not a case of either/or, but of both; a responsibility on all to contribute to
basic services for all, as well as the obligation to make individual contribution
by those who have the means to provide for those in need. The centre of the
argument should, it seems to me, be shifted to how we strike the proper bal-
ance and move towards eradicating need, rather than debating individual rights
that would release those with abundant means from a sense of obligation to
their fellow citizens.
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35
REASON AND KNOWLEDGE
The Qur’an is generously sprinkled with references to learning, education,

observation and the use of reason. Indeed, reason, after revelation, is the sec-
ond most important source for discovering and delineating the ‘signs of God’.
The cosmos is presented as a ‘text’ that can be read, explored and understood
with the use of reason: ‘in the alternation of night and day, in the rain God
provides, sending it down from the sky and reviving the dead earth with it, and
in His shifting of winds there are signs for those who use their reason’ (45:5).
Thus, reason is a path to salvation; it is not something you set aside to have
faith, it is the means to attaining faith, a tool of discovery and an instrument
for getting close to God.
The Qur’anic notion of reason, however, is much more than simply logical
deduction [16]. Reasoning per se can become instrumental and lead to oppres-
sion. By simply focusing on the most rational and efficient way of doing things,
instrumental reasoning, as critical theorists and social philosophers such
as Jurgen Habermas [17] have pointed out, can lead to all sorts of social, eco-
nomic and political problems. By concentrating on ‘how’ a goal is to be
achieved, we often overlook ‘why’ the goal is sought in the first place, and
whether it ‘ought’ to be pursued at all.
It is to avoid the problems of instrumental rationality that the Qur’an con-
nects reason to salvation: ‘They will say, “if only we had listened, or reasoned,
we would not be with the inhabitants of the blazing fire”’ (67:10). If reasoned
actions lead to salvation, then it follows that they have to be undertaken
within a value system: when both the ends and means are just and equitable,
when the ‘how’ is connected to ‘why’ and ‘ought’. These questions are best
251
answered, according to the Qur’an, not just by using the mind, but also
the heart.
It is interesting to note that the Qur’an often uses ‘reason’ in juxtaposition
with ‘listening’, as in 67:10. Every reasoned argument has a counter-argument.
While understanding comes from reasoning, it does not come with reasoning
alone. We are also required to listen to the counter-argument and take it into
consideration in our reasoning process. When the Qur’an says that those who
throw scorn at the believers are doing this ‘because they are people who do
not reason’ (5:58), it is emphasising that the counter-arguments are falling
on deaf ears.
We reason, according to the Qur’an, not just with our minds but also
through listening and seeing; true comprehension is reached when all the fac-
ulties, including the heart, come into play. Those ‘with hearts they do not use
for comprehension, eyes they do not use for sight, ears they do not use for
hearing’ are like ‘cattle’, ‘entirely heedless’ (7:179). Blind followers are not nec-
essarily irrational, they simply stick to the paradigm they know and trust: the
ways of their forefathers (43:22–3), the traditions of Great Men long dead
(43:22), the ideas that ‘they do not know to be true’ (17:36) which have passed
their ‘use by’ date. True knowledge, the Qur’an tells us, is produced through
arguing and listening to the arguments of others, through criticism, self-criti-
cism and counter-criticism.
So the elitist idea that faith can only be explained and taught by scholars
cannot be justified using the Qur’an. I see it as a ploy by religious scholars to
control religious thought. Knowledge, the Qur’an makes clear, is not the
domain of a chosen few. Rather, every individual should seek knowledge as a
religious duty.
It is with this holistic notion of reason, which employs all our faculties and
eschews blind devotion to a single paradigm, that the Qur’an invites us to
reflect, ponder and pursue knowledge. The emphasis on knowledge in the
Qur’an is eye opening: again and again, we are urged to study nature, explore
the cosmos, measure and calculate, discover the situation and histories of other
nations, travel the earth in search of knowledge, learning and wisdom: ‘It is He
who has made the sun a shining radiance and the moon a light, determining
phases for it so you might know the number of years and how to calculate
them. God did not create all this without a true purpose’ (10:5); ‘It is He who
spread out the earth, placed firm mountains and rivers on it, and made two of
every kind of fruit; He draws the veil of night over the day. There truly are signs
in this for people who reflect’ (13:3); and ‘Say, “Travel throughout the earth
and see how He brings life into being”’ (29:20).
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REASON AND KNOWLEDGE
The word used for knowledge in the Qur’an is ‘ilm [18]. It signifies that
knowledge is a form of remembering God. Those who study God’s ‘signs in the
creation of the heavens and earth’ are remembering God, ‘standing, sitting and
lying down’ (3:191). Thus, the pursuit of knowledge becomes a form of wor-
ship which is accorded special status in the Qur’an. Conventional types of
worship does not necessarily make the worshipper intelligent, clever or wise.
(And, I have to say, I know many devout worshippers who are anything but.)
But knowledge can increase understanding, comprehension and lead to wis-
dom. That is why the Qur’an asks: ‘what about someone who worships
devoutly during the night, bowing down, standing in prayer, ever mindful of
the life to come, hoping for his Lord’s mercy?’ And answers: ‘how can those
who know be equal to those who do not know?’ (39:9).
The Qur’an seeks to establish a society of ‘those who know’, a knowledge
society, a society where reason and reflection, thought and learning, are not
only valued but grounded in everyday reality. The situation in the Muslim
world today, where science and learning are conspicuous by their almost total
absence, where irrationality and fanaticism are the norm, indicates just how
far many Muslims have deviated from the teachings of the Qur’an [19].
The world of faith that the Qur’an implies is one of reasoned argument
among multiple points of view between Muslims as well as people of other
faiths and no faith. As we have seen, knowledge derives from seeking to tran-
scend the limitations of our narrow perspectives. But knowledge like every-
thing else has to be sought and exists within moral and ethical parameters. The
search for knowledge can neither liberate nor exonerate us from careful con-
sideration of consequences and risks, of the means and purpose by and for
which it is sought. The pursuit of knowledge is a basic requirement. However,
that does not necessarily mean all enquiries, all techniques, all objectives for
seeking knowledge are good or blameless in and of themselves. It is not merely
that the search for knowledge needs to be conducted with humility, but we
also have to recognise that ignorance is a constant companion of knowledge:
our ignorance of the questions we do not ask. We need to appreciate the fact
that as human knowledge has accumulated, so has our ignorance. The quest
for knowledge is a challenge to seek to comprehend that which serves the pur-
pose of achieving greater justice and equity for all, while accepting that how-
ever much we know, we remain limited, finite and fallible beings who do not
know all. In a Qur’anic perspective, knowledge does not confer mastery and
it always carries responsibilities and obligations to distinguish between what
we can do and whether it ought to be done.
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36
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
Crime and punishment are not a major theme of the Qur’an. Out of the 6,200
verses in the Qur’an, Abdel Haleem tells us, ‘70 verses discuss personal law, 70
verses civil law, and 20 judiciary matters and testimony’. Moreover, these tend
to deal with general principles such as justice, kindness and charity, rather than
detailed laws: even legal matters are explained in language that appeals to the
emotions, conscience and belief in God. In verses dealing with retaliation
(2:178–9), once the principles are established, the text goes on to soften the
hearts of both parties: offender and victims [20]. Despite the fact that only a
handful of verses deal with punitive injunctions, the issue of crime and punish-
ment has become controversial, not because of what the Qur’an says, but how
the matter is treated in Islamic law, or Shari‘a. It is thus assumed, by Muslims
and non-Muslims alike, that the Qur’an must devote considerable space to
offences and sentence: this is why it is worth examining this theme here.
The main concept associated with the Qura’nic view of criminal justice is
hadd (plural hudud); it literally means ‘limit’ or ‘boundary’, and signifies the
limit of what is tolerable and permissible and what is not. In Islamic legal par-
lance, hudud has come to signify ‘fixed punishments’, which cannot be changed
because they are designed to prevent crime. However, when we examine the
term in the Qur’an and compare it with how it has come to be used in Islamic
law, we immediately come across a discrepancy.
The word hadd is mentioned fourteen times in the Qur’an. Indeed, we have
already encountered the term in 2:229–30, where it is mentioned no less than
six times, in our discussion about divorce. After instructing the believers that
divorce can only happen twice, and laying down guidance about how wives
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should be treated, the verse tells us that ‘these are (hudud) the bounds set by
God: do not overstep them’, and concludes: ‘these are hudud Allah which He
makes clear for a people who know’. The obvious point to note here is that
there is no reference to punishment of any kind! When we examine the occur-
rence of the term elsewhere in the Qur’an (as in 2:187, 9:97, 65:1, 4:12–13,
58:3–5), it becomes clear that it is intended as a moral guideline: it describes
the boundary within which good and virtuous human conduct is located,
where decency resides. This becomes quite clear in the chapter entitled ‘Repen-
tance’, 9:112: ‘The believers are those who turn to God in repentance; who
worship and praise Him; who bow down and prostrate themselves; who order
what is good and forbid what is wrong and who observe (hudud Allah) God’s
limits’.
Thus, from the perspective of the Qur’an, hadd has nothing to do with pun-
ishment and everything to do with establishing the moral tone of the Muslim
community. Nevertheless, this did not prevent classical jurists from establish-
ing hadd punishments, particularly for adultery, theft and murder. The Hudud
Ordinance of Pakistan, for example, is all about such punishments [21].
The Qur’anic term for sexual crimes is zina. It is problematic in that it can
mean adultery, fornication or rape. But zina is perceived, and indeed trans-
lated, simply as ‘adultery’. The Qur’an prescribes two kinds of punishment for
adultery. In 4:15, we read: ‘if any of your women commit a lewd act, call four
witnesses among you, then, if they testify to their guilt, keep the women at
home until death come to them or until God shows them another way’.
There are three points to note in this short verse. First, the evidence required
to prove adultery is exceptionally high: so high, in fact, that it is almost impos-
sible to prove. Adulterous liaisons are not usually conducted in plain sight of
four witnesses, and only eye witnesses rather than gossip, rumour or suspicion
will suffice. Second, even with evidence, guilt is proven only with a confession.
Third, the punishment that follows is confinement until such time as the guilty
party is shown ‘another way’. That is, they repent. So the overall emphasis here,
I think, is on the guilty party to seek forgiveness and find an alternative way
of fulfilling their sexual desires.
Later, the Qur’an complicates matters—as it always does—to keep the
believers on their toes! So, we have 24:2: ‘strike the adulteress and adulterer
one hundred times’. Let us put some context here. The Qur’an was revealed in
a society without state institutions, such as prisons. It had to provide answers
that were immediately applicable to the society it was addressing. Justice had
to be dispensed, and it had to be seen to be done. Hence, the advice: ‘ensure
256
that a group of believers witness the punishment’. The punishment, in my opin-

ion, is totally contextual. It does not have universal import. Moreover, before
it can be carried out it still requires the stringent burden of proof and evidence
mentioned in 4:15. And there is a warning that we need to pay attention to:
‘those who accuse honourable but unwary believing women are rejected by
God, in this life and the next’ (24:23).
The Qur’anic term most often used in connection with theft and murder is
qisas. It is normally translated as ‘retribution’, as in 2:178: ‘you who believe, fair
retribution is prescribed for you in cases of murder’. In a footnote to his transla-
tion, Abdel Haleem explains that qisas etymologically means ‘to track down’
[22]. For classical commentators, qisas was synonymous with ‘making a thing
equal with another thing’. But the term has a much wider meaning in classic
Arabic lexicons, ranging from ‘to pursue someone’ to ‘investigate by following
one’s footsteps’. I think what the term implies is that the criminal should be
pursued, tracked down, the crime investigated, and the culprit should be pun-
ished fairly with due process of the law—all these meanings are implicit in the
term. I find the conventional reductive rendering of qisas as ‘blood for blood’
both appalling and a reflection of a medieval, tribal mindset.
We can say much the same about punishment for theft as for striking the
adulterers. ‘Cut off the hands of thieves, whether they are men or women, as
punishment for what they have done’ (5:38) has to be viewed in the context
of a tribal society whose norms it reflects. It is not meant to be a universal
injunction for all times. The universal principle is that justice should be done
and seen to be done; and fair punishment should be handed out according to
the norms of a society.
This leads to the conventional Muslim wisdom that the Qur’an advocates
mandatory capital punishments. Hence, we see the prevalence of capital pun-
ishment in Saudi Arabia, Iran, Pakistan, the Sudan and other Muslim coun-
tries. I beg to differ.
There are three reasons for this. First, there is the notion of compensation.
The guilty party can be forgiven by its victims. The main verse used to justify
capital punishment, 2:178, goes on to say: ‘if the culprit is pardoned by his
aggrieved brother, this shall be adhered to fairly, and the culprit shall pay what
is due in a good way’. So compensation is presented as a part of the whole pack-
age of ‘fair retribution’; it should not simply be seen as an eye for eye.
Second, there is the overwhelming emphasis on repentance: whatever the
crime, whatever the punishment, it does not apply merely to those ‘who
repent later and make amends’ (24:5). In all four instances where the Qur’an
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specifies a punishment for an offence, it stresses that the door to atonement

and reformation is always open. So 5:38, ‘cut off…’, is immediately followed
by ‘but if anyone repents after his wrong-doing and makes amends, God will
accept his repentance’ (5:39). This is also consistent with the overall spirit of
the Qur’an.
Third, the Qur’an sees human life as sacrosanct: ‘take not life, which God
has made sacred’ (6:151). ‘If anyone kills a person’, we read in 5:32, ‘unless in
retribution for murder or spreading corruption in the land—it is as if he kills
all humanity, while if any saves a life, it is as if he saved the life of all people’.
Would this apply to an innocent person executed by some miscarriage of jus-
tice? I think so. Therefore, capital punishment is not presented in the Qur’an
as a norm, but as the last resort in exceptional cases.
What would these exceptional circumstances be? I think they apply to those
who, to use a common Qur’anic phrase, ‘spread corruption in the land’. These
would include hardened, violent or depraved criminals who have no under-
standing of repentance and changing their ways—and here I would include
terrorists. These are people who defy the norms of any decent society; they
operate over the outer limits, beyond the boundaries of hudud, the parameters
prescribed by God for human behaviour.
The point is that hudud represent the outer limits of human actions and not
the norm. They do not apply as a general rule, but are the exceptions applicable
in extreme circumstances. The other essential point is that a limit defines not
only the extreme consequence that can be resorted to in unusual circumstances:
most importantly it also implies and entails the existence of a system within
the limits. We cannot understand the limit, or know when it has been reached,
without giving even more attention to what should exist within the limit. No
proper appreciation of the Qur’anic view of crime and punishment can or
should exist without first giving priority to establishing a social system that is
just and equitable. It is the responsibility of the entire society to ensure that
operational means of delivering genuine justice and equity, fair opportunity
for all are provided. Inequality and injustice—scourges such as poverty, oppres-
sive hierarchies that exclude and demean groups or individuals—any of the
perversions that human society has managed to invent and tolerates must have
a bearing on how we think and understand the validity of applying the limit.
We cannot make people good, but we can and should strive to create condi-
tions where there is every incentive and encouragement for people to respect
each other and treat each other with dignity, in which case the limits could
retreat almost to vanishing point.
258
The other consideration we should take account of in thinking about a

bounded system, a society that recognises limits, is that it is free to adopt any
measures, any form of legal arrangements, any ordinances and bylaws that fall
within the limits to promote, encourage or indeed punish behaviour. It can
and should devise appropriate means to ensure that circumstances never reach
the limits. Muslims seem to have lost sight of this fact. If we have responsibility
for making a good society, we have responsibility to enact the procedures to
bring it into being and sustain it in operation. The hudud are not the only leg-
islation there is or can be; rather they define, or should define, exactly the point
we do not want to arrive at.
The Muslim tragedy is that living on the edge, making appeal to and seeing
virtue only in the limits, has become the norm. It is a flaw not merely in Islamic
law; it exists most resolutely in popular understanding of what constitutes
Islamic law and what living as an operative Islamic society should mean [23].
In the process, Muslim societies have, not surprisingly, become extremist. Our
problem is not merely making a transition from the contextually rooted spe-
cific to general laws; we also need to concentrate on the norms of the human
society we are guided to create, and frame our laws on the basis of dignity and
mercy. The limit is harsh; the norm we lose sight of is the way of compassion,
mercy and good governance that delivers human dignity for all.
The urge to punish offenders is by no means exclusive to Muslim society.
The fear of crime and belief in the efficacy of punishment represent a general,
pervasive climate of popular opinion. The sense I take from the Qur’an is that
rather than devise ever more laws and punishments, what a good society needs
is more reflection, investment of creative thought and planning on the subject
of reformation. Finding the means to bring an offender to appreciate the con-
sequences of their actions is not easy. Rehabilitation is only a soft option where
people have lost faith and confidence in the concept of repentance. Genuine
moral reform can be the safest long-term guarantee for society. However, it is
unlikely to occur without addressing the predicaments and circumstances that
lead people to commit crimes in the first place. It is not a case of making soci-
ety responsible for the existence of crime, but an appreciation that distributive
justice and equitable opportunity are part of the means to secure the reform
and rehabilitation that are the true proof of repentance. Simply locking people
up and throwing away the key is the soft option. Learning the practicalities of
administering mercy and compassion, forgiveness and repentance in the real
world is fraught with difficulty; but as far as I am concerned, it is a goal for
which we ought to strive.
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37
RIGHTS AND DUTIES
In the Qur’an there is no ‘middle management’: every individual has a direct

relationship to God and is ultimately responsible for his or her actions. It is a
basic principle of the Qur’an that ‘each soul is responsible for its own action;
no soul will bear the burden of another’ (6:164). However, given God’s Infinite
Mercy and Benevolence, we can always pray for others to be forgiven. As for
ourselves, as individuals and as communities, we have certain rights as well as
responsibilities.
The idea of human rights in the Qur’an is firmly based on the notion of
human dignity. The Qur’an provides a direct and uncompromising affirmation
of the dignity of human beings: ‘We have confirmed dignity on the children
of Adam’ and ‘favoured them specially above many of those We have created’
(17:70). This dignity is neither something that is earned, nor is it based on
righteous conduct; it is innate, the natural endowment and God-given right
of everyone, whoever they are, pious or sinners, whatever their race, colour,
creed or nationality. And it can never be compromised.
The idea of human dignity is combined with the Qur’an’s equally categorical
stand on justice and equity: ‘Be ever steadfast in your devotion to God, bearing
witness to the truth in all equity; and never let hatred of anyone lead into the
sin of deviating from justice’ (5:8). This, the prime human right in the Qur’an,
is echoed in the first article of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human
Rights: ‘all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They
are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another
in a spirit of brotherhood’ [24].
Many other principles of the human rights convention can also be seen in
the Qur’an [25]. For example, 17:33 states ‘do not take life, which God has
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made sacred’, which can be read to mean ‘everyone has the right to life, liberty
and security of person’ (article 3). ‘Whenever you judge between people, you
should judge with justice’ (4:58) implies that ‘everyone has the right to recog-
nition everywhere as a person before the law’ and ‘all are equal before the law
and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law’
(articles 6 and 7). And ‘do not devour one another’s wealth to no good pur-
pose’ (2:188) can be interpreted, and has been interpreted, to mean ‘everyone
has the right to own property’ and ‘no one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his
property’ (article 17). The injunctions ‘do not let one make fun of another, do
not defame one another, do not insult by using nicknames, do not backbite or
speak ill of one another’ (49:11–12), ‘do not spy on one another (49:12) and
do not enter any houses unless you are sure of the occupant’s consent’ (24:27)
can all be read to mean ‘no one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with
his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attack upon his honour
and reputation; everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such
interference or attacks’ (article 12). We have already seen that the Qur’an for-
bids displacing communities, sending people to exile, and recommends that
asylum seekers and refugees should be protected (article 17). It is quite evident
that the Qur’an establishes many of the human rights that we find in the UN
Declaration of Human Rights.
But the Qur’an goes further. A dignified life is only possible, the Qur’an
argues, if one has the basic necessities of life, such as food, clothing and shelter.
So the hungry have the right to food, the naked the right to be clothed, the
homeless the right to be housed: ‘the needy and the destitute have a right to
their wealth’ (51:19), that is both the wealth of individuals and the collective
wealth of society. In the Qur’anic framework, a crucial aspect of human dignity
is the absolute right of individuals and communities to the essential necessities
without which life cannot be sustained. The bounty of God cannot be
restricted (17:20); and everyone has the right to be free from want, from abject
poverty that undermines human dignity. So the Qur’an already balances the
outlook over which the United Nations became politically and ideologically
divided by incorporating the substance of what became the alternative charter
of human rights, the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cul-
tural Rights [26]. In its balanced approach, the Qur’an takes us beyond the
framework of the vexed negotiations behind the UN conventions.
The difference between the Qur’anic view of rights and the various UN
conventions is that in the Qur’anic framework rights are equated with duties,
and both are interdependent. Humankind has the ‘right’ to survive, for exam-
ple, only insofar as it performs the duty of maintaining the world—that is, that
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RIGHTS AND DUTIES
it acts as a proper trustee (khalifa) of God and fulfils properly and appropri-
ately the responsibilities and trust that God has placed on humanity. In the
Western scheme, the emphasis is on the individual; the Qur’an, in contrast,
gives equal importance to the community and the notion of group rights. In
the Western liberal tradition, the focus is on personal freedom that signifies
the ability to act. In the Qur’an the emphasis is on the ability to be, to exist. It
is necessary for the community not just to survive but to provide a social, cul-
tural and spiritual environment where an individual can realise his or her full
potential to be. The overall concern of the Qur’an is not just the rights of the
human but the rights of humanity, including the humanity of the individual.
All this, however, does not mean that Muslims should be against the con-
ventional notion of human rights—even though, perversely, some are. The idea
that people deliberating in international bodies to establish conventions on
human rights is an illicit activity which somehow undermines the authority
of the Qur’an is, in my opinion, the height of folly. Getting as many people as
possible to recognise basic principles, which as I have argued are entirely con-
sistent with the Qur’an, is undoubtedly a good thing. Enunciating principles
is not the issue, but actually making them real and available equitably to all.
Muslim societies have been notably lacking in that regard, as have many others,
whether they subscribe to the UN conventions or the Qur’anic route. But also,
it means that some Muslims are concerned about the limitations of conven-
tional thought, the thinking and implementation behind the UN conventions,
and would like to take the human rights discourse a few steps further—a point
I argued at great length in my book Postmodernism and the Other [27].
As we considered in a previous chapter, the entire substance of the divide
between the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the International
Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights turns on the enduring
argument in Western thought between individual and collective rights. The
Qur’an’s answer is a unified framework where the same moral and ethical rights
and responsibilities apply to the individual as to the society incorporated as a
political and social entity. The state is not empowered at the expense of the
individual, nor is the individual seen as rightful in battling against the proper
work of the state in ensuring equity for all.
The problem is not with principles. The problem is the interpretation and
implementation that bedevil activity on behalf of the UN conventions as much
as on behalf of the Qur’anic viewpoint. Instead of redundant argument about
which declaration is more perfect, a genuine effort to see whose activity is more
humane and life-enhancing for those denied their rights by whatever code
would do a great deal to carry us beyond nitpicking on the head of a pin.
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38
NATURE AND ENVIRONMENT
The Qur’an contains a ‘theology of ecology’. The themes of the unity of nature
and our responsibilities towards the environment run throughout the Sacred
Text. Nature is invoked in numerous verses; these verses relate nature first to
God, then to humans. Nature is also frequently used both to illustrate the power
and majesty of God and to suggest that far from being chaotic, natural phenom-
ena have stability and regularity and hence utility for humans. The Qur’an uni-
fies the natural order of the cosmos under the single sovereignty of God; and
constantly urges us, as we have already seen, to study, understand and appreciate
the order of things. Moreover, the most central concepts of the Qur’an have a
direct bearing on ecological thinking and environmental action.
The most important concept in the Qur’an, from which everything else is
derived, is tawheed, or the unity of God. God, according to the Qur’an, is One
and the absolute possessor of the universe. He is its merciful Sustainer and
unquestioned Master. He has created all that is in it, and brings new things
into existence, by His command: ‘It is He who gives life and death, and when
he ordains a thing, He says only “Be” and it is’ (40:68). His creation obeys His
rules, or ‘laws of nature’, which enables them to fit into the order of things: ‘He
gave everything its form, then gave it guidance’ (20:50). The emphasis on ‘life
and death’ in relation to creation, which occurs regularly in the Qur’an, is
important. It suggests that while God is Infinite, His creation is not. Every-
thing except God is ‘measured out’ and created for a fixed period: ‘we have
created all things in due measure’ (54:49).
The idea of measuring here should not be confused with predestination. It
implies that creation has a ‘finite’ or ‘limited’ dimension. And it suggests that
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there are patterns, predictability, dispositions and trends in nature. The uni-
verse operates according to rules (even though some of these rules may follow
chaotic patterns), regulations (even though some of these may be based on
random probability) and laws (even though some of these may be contextual).
When the Qur’an refers to natural phenomena, the emphasis is always on
ordered, well-knit, regular and predictable nature: ‘the sun, too, runs its deter-
mined course laid down for it by the Almighty, the All Knowing. We have
determined phases for the moon until finally it becomes like an old date-stalk.
The sun cannot overtake the moon, nor can the night outrun the day: each
floats in its own orbit’ (36:38–40). The point being that only when natural
events are seen as phenomena within an ordered and predictable universe can
they be studied rationally and eventually be comprehended and used for the
benefit of humanity. Apart from demonstrating the power and majesty of God,
nature is also there to serve the needs of humans. The earth gives way to the
plough of the farmer, and winds bend the sails of the seamen (43:10–12).
Tawheed becomes an all-embracing value when this unity is asserted in the
unity of humanity, unity of man and nature, and the unity of knowledge and
values. As such, nature is not there simply to be exploited and abused. Indeed,
given the intimate connection between nature and man, its abuse is nothing
but self-abuse. Just as human life is sacred, nature in the Qur’an is a religious,
hence sacred, institution. The earth, ‘with its fruits, with its palm trees with
sheathed clusters, its husk grains, its fragrant plants’ (55:10–13) is there for
our benefit. But it has to be treated with respect, justice and balance: ‘He has
set the balance so you may not exceed the balance: weigh with justice and do
not exceed the balance’ (55:7–9). The earth and its environment have rights.
And its first right is the acknowledgment that we do not own it. We have not
created it and hence we cannot own it. Rather, we have it on trust from its
rightful owner. The concept of tawheed emphasises that nature has no meaning
without reference to God; without Divine purpose it simply does not exist.
This is why the Qur’anic term for nature is ‘created order’.
The second most important concept in the Qur’an is the concept of khalifa.
It is usually translated as ‘vicegerent’ but I prefer ‘trustee’. That human beings
are khalifa or trustees of God on earth is made clear in 2:30 where God tells
the angels: ‘I am putting a khalifa on earth’. The khalifa comes as a representa-
tive of a higher authority. He or she has no exclusive right to anything. The
function of trustees is to carry out their responsibility diligently and ensure
that the trust survives and thrives. As trustees of God on earth, it is our indi-
vidual and collective responsibility to maintain the balance or harmony of
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nature, preserve and conserve the environment with all its flora and fauna, and
treat all God’s creation with due respect and reverence. Thus, we are not inde-
pendent of God but are responsible and accountable to God for our activities
on the planet: scientific and technological, industrial and business, individual
and collective. The trust, maintaining the integrity of the earth and its environ-
ment, is a test from God; and we will be judged on how our responsibilities as
trustees are carried out: ‘It is He who has made you trustees on earth and raises
some of you above others in ranks, to test you through what He gives you’
(6:165). The ranking here is not the hierarchy of rich and poor—this would
go against what the Qur’an says elsewhere and the utmost importance it gives
to the notion of equality and human dignity. Rather, the rank in question is
the rank of virtue: it is about righteousness and knowledge. I would argue that
virtue here includes environmental virtue: some of us excel in our environmen-
tal good deeds over others. The Qur’an repeatedly asks us to compete with
each other in doing good, including that which is good for the environment.
Also, this would imply rank in the sense of possession of knowledge and capa-
bilities to utilise and affect the environment: the more one possesses and uses,
the greater the responsibility to do so with prudence, to guard against degrada-
tion and damage as an integral routine of how nature is exploited [28].
Nature, therefore, is a trust or amana, and a theatre for our moral and ethical
struggle. While we enjoy temporary control over nature, we have no sovereign
authority. The Qur’an views nature essentially in a teleological perspective, and
therefore the claims of our ‘dominion’ over her has no place in the Qur’anic
perspective. Here, the teachings of the Qur’an are diametrically different from
those of Christianity. In Christianity, nature is ‘fallen’ and is viewed as opposed
to grace. Hence, St. Augustine declared that nature is ‘unredeemed’ [29]; it
cannot teach us anything about God and thus has no theological or spiritual
value. Salvation comes by humbling nature. Nature devoid of God’s presence
and grace can, then, as Francis Bacon said, be ‘tortured’ to yield its secrets [30].
But in the Qur’an, nature is a ‘sign’ of God: ‘there truly are signs in the creation
of heavens and earth, and in the alternation of night and day, for those with
understanding, who remember God standing, sitting, and lying down, who
reflect on the creation of heavens and the earth’ (3:190–91). As such, nature
is necessary for both our survival and salvation as well as for ‘understanding’.
All creation is sacred; there is no such thing as a profane planet. Looking after
the environment, and maintaining harmony and balance between people and
nature, are thus part of our function as human beings. When we fail in our
custodianship of nature, we also fail as human beings and become strangers in
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our terrestrial abode. When we cease to appreciate the beauty of our planet,
we also forget our true origins and final destination. To be mindful of God,
the Qur’an tells us, is to be truly close to nature.
But being close to nature does not stop us from experiencing its wrath. If
nature behaves according to the will of God, one may ask, how can we account
for natural disasters? This is one of the enduring questions of the human condi-
tion. Our relationship with nature includes the trauma of natural disasters
which, as we so often witness in today’s world, overwhelm communities with
death and devastation. It seems to me that the power of nature, the awesome
might and even intimidating power, are indeed part of the majesty of God.
But I do not take that to be either a fatalistic acceptance that disasters happen
or the idea of natural disaster as a punishment from God per se.
First, we have to be clear what we are talking about. Often what we call natu-
ral disasters are in large degree man-made tragedies. Human activity exacerbates
and compounds the effects of the forces of nature working away by their own
rules and regulations. So here we have to ask how sensitive and prudent human
activity has been in appreciating the laws of nature and creating social, economic
and environmental practices which work in harmony with the possibilities and
potential of natural events. Human failure to be aware of or respect the laws of
nature, or the effects of human greed, environmental degradation and irrespon-
sible activity can hardly be blamed on God when they devastate lives [31].
Building communities on flood plains and concreting over green fields that
would allow excess water to run off are not acts of God but human activity that
disregards the likelihood of flooding. The same is true of droughts. If land is
overexploited, trees cut down and no prudential systems maintained to store
up resources in good years against the likely occurrence of lean years, who is to
be blamed? And as we know, or should know by now, drought and famine are
functions of poverty, human injustice and inequity. Famine is never the product
of a total lack of food either in one country or in the world as a whole; it results
from the inability, the lack of means to purchase food by the poorest and most
vulnerable, and it is they who pay the price in suffering.
Second, the awesome power of nature is a reality, but a reality, as I have
emphasised, that we are commended to study and seek to understand. If nature
is a ‘sign’ for those who ‘understand’, then that understanding must include the
knowledge to prevent natural disasters, or at least to limit their destructive
consequences. Earthquakes happen. Yet many cultures, traditional indigenous
ones as well as those at the cutting edge of modern science and technology,
have mastered techniques to construct buildings that do not collapse in even
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the strongest earthquakes. Think of the walls of Inca towns, built with what
we would call rudimentary tools, yet still standing long after the destruction
of the culture that made them and with it the knowledge, understanding and
respect for nature it included. We have acquired the knowledge and capacity,
for example, to create tsunami warning systems—but not the social and
economic justice to ensure all those who are vulnerable are warned and
protected.
Third, I take the idea of respect for the powers of nature, the need to study
and attempt to understand them and then to organise our social and economic
systems prudentially to account for those awesome powers to be the essence
of the concept of khalifa. The whole point about the Qur’an is that it requires
us to use joined up and interconnected thinking. So the power of nature can-
not be considered separately from how we interact with nature. The emphasis
the Qur’an places on justice and equity requires us to give equal care to the
environment and the welfare and well-being of each and every human being.
These are our non-negotiable responsibilities and duties which permit us to
live harmoniously with nature and each other.
However, I have to add one other point, a theme we have already encoun-
tered in the Qur’an: the concept of risk. Human beings are not omnipotent
but limited, we are intelligent and perfectable as moral beings but never omni-
scient—God alone knows all. So for me, there never will be a time when we
fully understand all the powers of nature, nor will we ever be able to control
those powers completely. There will always be risk, the risk of being taken
unaware by the action of natural forces, subject to disaster. The Qur’an empha-
sises that in the face of risk the right action is to ensure it is shared as equitably
as possible. We must accept responsibility, a duty of care for those overtaken
by disaster and the troubles it brings. This is not a counsel of ‘just sit back and
take it’, nor the uncaring vengeance of a wilful, cruel God. It is the endowment,
not always easy to accept, of being created with free will and given the liberty
to exist and make our own way and choices in an ordered universe of awesome
power. It would be so much easier, I accept, to live in a cotton wool world
where everything is benign. We don’t; and looking for someone or something
to blame, as far as I’m concerned, is a complete distraction from the essential
business of doing everything we can to make the best possible world out of the
one we do inhabit.
Muslim societies of the classical period were not free from natural disasters.
Nevertheless, love and conservation of nature were a major concern for tradi-
tional Muslim communities.
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Amana and khalifa are not just theoretical concepts. They were actualised,
translated into specific policies right from the time of the Prophet Muham-
mad. The Prophet established two types of inviolate zones bordering around
towns and watercourses: haram and hima. The haram zones, within which
certain activities were forbidden, were maintained around wells, watersources,
towns and cities. Around wells a space was left to protect them from impair-
ment, to provide room for their operation and maintenance, safeguard their
water from pollution, and provide resting areas for livestock, and room for
irrigation facilities. Around rivers and natural watercourses, people could not
carry out any activity that would pollute their water. Around towns and cities,
people could not cut trees or forage or burn, to ensure that wildlife and their
habitat were protected and the carrying capacity of the town or city was not
exceeded. The hima zones were set aside outside cities specifically for the con-
servation of forests and wildlife. The Prophet declared the area surrounding
Medina as hima; and, within the city, he established a number of haram zones.
Following the Prophet, the rightly guided Caliphs extended and created many
other inviolate zones. Caliph Umar, for example, established the hima of ash-
Sharaf and the extensive hima of ar-Rabdah near Dariyah. A number of himas
created during the classical period still exist in Saudi Arabia today.
The instruments of haram and hima were an integral part of Islamic law,
Shari‘a, during the classical period of Muslim civilisation; as were animal rights,
which were extensively debated, as can be seen in such classics as ‘Disputes
Between Animals and Man’, part of The Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, writ-
ten in the tenth century [32]. The Qur’anic verse ‘all the creatures that crawl
on the earth and those that fly with their wings are communities like your-
selves’ (6:38) led to the first full-fledged charter of ‘the rights of livestock and
animals’, first formulated by Ibn abd as-Salam, who flourished during the thir-
teenth century. Environmental aspects of the Shari‘a also played an important
role in town planning. Traditional Muslim cities, such as Fez [33], were not
only surrounded by inviolate zones, but their use of water within and around
the city was also exemplary. Cities were built around rivers: fresh water was
extracted upriver, while used water was deposited downstream. Any activity
that would pollute or contaminate the river was forbidden by the Shari‘a. A
city had clearly delineated limits; and its population or its boundary were not
allowed to exceed the carrying capacity of the river. Popular culture too
reflected the love of nature and the urge for conservation. The titles of such
classical Sufi works as Gulistan (The Rose Garden) and Bustan (The Fruit Gar-
den) by Sadi Shahrazi [34] and Farid al Din Attar’s The Conference of the Birds
[35] provide ample evidence of this.
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Contemporary Muslim societies have lost much of their traditional con-

sciousness and concern for the environment. The reasons are varied: not least,
the decline of Muslim civilisation itself, along with the ravages of colonialism
and then the mad rush for modernisation. But in the age of climate change, I
would argue, Muslims are duty-bound to return to the ecological insights of
the Qur’an and to implement them in their individual lives, as well as their use
and treatment of the environment. The preservation and conservation of our
flora and fauna, the diversity of which is truly amazing to behold, is a religious
duty and a moral responsibility for all Muslims. If Muslims fail to play an active
part in looking after the gardens and rivers of the globe, to reflect on the needs
of the ‘spread out earth’, to use our reason to develop appropriate policy and
strategies for safeguarding the future of the planet, we will be ruined both here
and in the Hereafter: ‘It is He who spread out the earth, placed firm mountains
and rivers on it, and made two of every kind of fruit; He draws the veil of night
over the day. There truly are signs in this for people who reflect. There are, in
the land, neighbouring plots, gardens of vineyards, cornfields, palm trees in
clusters or otherwise, all watered with the same water, yet we make some of
them taste better than others; there truly are signs in this for people who rea-
son’ (13:3–4).
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39
ETHICS AND MORALITY
A book of guidance is ultimately a book about ethics and morality. So it should

not surprise us to discover that the Qur’an contains numerous verses and pas-
sages about moral and ethical concerns. Scripture’s moral guidance has mean-
ing only for those who believe; or are perceptive enough to understand the
‘signs’ of the Grace of God and appreciate that the universe has a moral pur-
pose. It is of little consequence to those who see without insight, who do not
follow ‘the ways of peace’ and ‘what pleases Him’ (5:16). Hence, the Qur’an’s
moral exhortations are couched, in the words of Bishop Kenneth Cragg, in
‘the perpetual perhaps’ [36]. Perhaps those who believe will be able to connect
the dots and see this wisdom in its true perspective. Perhaps, those who do not
believe may also gain something from these teachings. Perhaps, a reader of the
Qur’an has enough intellectual acumen to appreciate the pragmatism of
its moral insights. Perhaps. What is necessary, I think, is a sense of awe and
gratefulness.
Gratitude is the prime moral value of the Qur’an and the foundation of its
ethics and morality [37]. Again and again, we are asked to be thankful to God.
The ‘signs’ of God are there to see ‘for every steadfast and thankful person’
(14:5); God provides ‘you with good things so that you might be grateful’
(8:26); and ‘God always rewards gratitude’ (4:147). Gratitude comes both
from the heart and the mind. It is a reflection of the feeling of awe at the won-
ders of God’s creation, it is dismayed neither by terror nor by despair, and, like
true love, it cannot be forced or controlled. Yet, unlike love, it generates per-
spective and discernment that lead to critical capacity and critical awareness.
This is why gratitude in the Qur’an is always connected to God’s favours, and
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the believers are asked to say, ‘Lord, help me to be truly grateful for Your
favours to me’ (46:15).
In contrast, the Qur’an sometimes deplores the behaviour of ungrateful,
graceless people: ‘most of them do not give thanks’ (10:60). Even though God
is ‘bountiful to people, most of them are ungrateful’ (27:73).
Both gratitude and ingratitude manifest themselves through service or lack
of service to humanity. Gratitude has external as well as internal, personal,
dimensions. Externally, it expresses itself by working to improve the lives of
others and enhancing the environment we inhabit. We have already seen that
the Qur’an gives great importance to charity, to helping the orphans, the needy
and the old, and spending one’s wealth on good causes. Helping those less for-
tunate than oneself is not an incidental, a part-time concern for the believers:
gratitude demands that in one way or another one’s entire life is devoted to
promoting equity and human dignity, peace and harmony, and conserving and
preserving the environment. The most profound way of thanking God is to
enhance our humanity and beautify the garden of His creation. The challenge
is collective, as well as individual. The same moral and ethical principles are an
exhortation and imperative for the community. The greatest gratitude is to
organise and operate an entire society that delivers human dignity, peace and
harmony, justice and equity for all—Muslim and non-Muslim alike. Indeed,
the whole point of the Qur’an’s moral and ethical principles is that they are
not branded products, not a special preserve of Muslims alone. In a complex
heterodox, multicultural society, they cannot be achieved by Muslims in isola-
tion. They are principles that dictate the need for common aims and objectives,
for collaboration with people of other faiths and no faith, a fact for which we
should be truly thankful, since it offers a realistic way to achieve peace, if we
learn to implement the guidance properly.
Internally, gratitude is about two specific values that the Qur’an mentions
repeatedly: patience and moderation. ‘Be patient’ (46:35), we read, for it is the
patient who ultimately have faith and hope in God: ‘those who believe seek
help through patience and prayer’ (2:153). The Qur’an divides patience into
three components. First, patience requires endurance: ‘endure patiently what-
ever may afflict you’ (31:17). But endurance in the face of affliction is not fatal-
ism. It is about steadfastness, the second element of patience. Affliction is
endured patiently because there is always hope if, with determination, we
steadfastly follow the path of virtue. This is why the believers pray: ‘Our Lord,
fill us full of patience and make our feet firm’ (2:250).
Third, patience is about self-control and seeking righteousness without
being distracted by the glamour of the world or materialistic and physical
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ETHICS AND MORALITY
desire: ‘content yourself with those who pray to their Lord morning and eve-
ning, seeking His approval, and do not let your eyes turn away from them out
of desire for the attraction of this worldly life’ (18:28). The Qur’anic idea of
patience is not passive but proactive. In expressing our gratitude to God by
seeking equity and justice, we can err by straying into self-righteousness, feeble-
ness or violence. This is why patience is associated in the Qur’an with strength,
discipline and persistence. It is not about succumbing to misfortunes and
hurdles, but control of the self in the face of opposition, resolve in the task of
striving for social transformation. The function of patience is to persevere,
against all odds, as one seeks to change what is, into what ought to be.
Moderation has two elements. First, moderation requires restraint in all we
do [38]. Whether the good we seek is service to others or charity, we need to
follow the middle path: ‘do not be tight-fisted, nor so open-handed that you
end up blamed and overwhelmed with regret’ (17:29). Temperance is neces-
sary, the Qur’an tells us, even in worship: ‘do not be loud in your prayer, or too
quiet, but seek a middle way’ (17:110). And we should certainly be moderate
in what we say and what we do: ‘go at a moderate pace and lower your voice,
for the ugliest of all voices is the braying of asses’ (31:19).
Second, moderation based on gratitude requires humility. Humility is
acceptance that perhaps we don’t have the full story, the whole truth, the abso-
lute definitive answer. The Qur’an declares: ‘God does not love the arrogant’
(16:23). The advice not to ‘strut arrogantly about the earth’ (17:37) refers not
just to hubris towards others but also towards the flora and the fauna of the
planet, the kind of built environment we create and how we study and seek to
understand nature. The Qur’an promises paradise to those who ‘do not seek
superiority on earth’ (28:83) and ‘call on your Lord humbly and privately’
(7:55). Humility, particularly personal humility, can sometimes be confused
with weakness. Thus, just like patience, the Qur’an links humility with
strength: ‘Seek help with steadfastness and prayer—though this is hard indeed
for anyone but the humble, who know that they will meet their Lord and that
it is to Him they will return’ (2:45).
Now the purpose of all this moderation and patience is not just individual
salvation. Clearly, individuals will benefit, in this world and the next, by fol-
lowing the moral guidance of the Qur’an. But these moral precepts also have
a social dimension. Societies also need to be moderate and patient, and shun
the pursuit of superiority in favour of modesty and gratitude. The personal
and the social moral imperatives lead in the same direction: the well-being of
and harmony in society. The Qur’an challenges the individual and society to
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transcend their will to power for working together to address the moral and
ethical concerns of humanity as a whole. By answering God’s call ‘to that which
gives you life’ (8:24) we can, perhaps, enhance our humanity and enrich life in
all its exuberance and fullness.
But that still leaves a burning question: why do bad things happen to good
people, best efforts go awry and the worst of human potential regularly make
its appearance, and even win the day. No one of faith can be so lacking in
imagination as to be unaware of the problem; I have certainly spent a great deal
of time pondering this question. As I see it, faith is no gold chip guarantee, nor
is that what the Qur’an necessarily promises. The first, inescapable reality of
faith is that this life is not all there is. The essence of belief in the Hereafter,
our continuation beyond this life, is exactly the reason to persevere in doing
as much good as one is able, despite the bad things that happen. Only if one
loses sight of the life in the Hereafter is there a reason to give up when best
efforts turn to dust in your hands and society seems to be going to hell in a
hand basket before your eyes.
Second, if bad things are a negation of the promise of faith, and the out-
come of gratitude to God is good results, then faith itself becomes an entirely
materialist proposition. It is very easy to reduce this equation to the personal
and individual counsel of self-satisfied complacency, the sanctimonious self-
righteousness that says so much ‘good’ done, so many reward points accumu-
lated—‘I’m all right, Mate; pity about you!’ In my opinion this is exactly where
the Qur’an’s insistence on the social dimension is so essential and so great a
saving grace. When is the state of the world such that anyone can simply rest
assured?
Faith is not a guarantee. We have free will, freedom of choice and respon-
sibility for our actions as limited human beings—people with a lot to learn.
Faith is a guide, a source of resolve, a reservoir of strength in striving to make
things better, not a certainty that all will be well. It is we fallible humans who
have put in the effort to make it work and keep it up and running. Faith is
about the work we have to do, not something that will be done for us because
we have faith. If simply believing and being grateful were enough, we would
neither have free will and personal responsibility nor live in a world with other
people equally as free as ourselves. But having faith, seeing ourselves and our
problems in a larger perspective, are the reason to persevere despite our per-
sonal failings and those of people around us. And that is something to be grate-
ful for—given how bad things can get.
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40
READING AND WRITING
‘Read’ was the first word to be revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. The rev-
elation that is the Qur’an began on the night of 27 Ramadan 611, when
Muhammad was meditating in the cave of Hira near Mecca. We know that
he was unlettered. Tradition tells us that 5 he replied, ‘I am not of those who
read.’ But the revelation insisted that he reads. ‘What shall I read?’ the
Prophet asked eventually. ‘Read’, came the reply, ‘in the name of your Lord
who created: He created man from a clinging form. Read! Your Lord is the
Most Bountiful One who taught by means of the pen, who taught man what
he did not know’ (96:1–5).
These first verses make it clear that reading has a special place in the Qur’an.
But reading requires something to read. So it is closely followed by writing,
the use of the pen, the instrument through which we come to know what we
‘did not know’. Reading and writing are thus exercises in discovery, a path that
leads humanity to glory and perfection. Reading and writing are essential not
just for the reflective society the Qur’an seeks to build, but also for generating
culture, producing new knowledge and hence building a dynamic, thriving
civilisation. They are the basic tools that God has taught us to facilitate com-
munication (55:4) and instil critical thought in human beings.
The Prophet Muhammad himself placed a great deal of emphasis on writing
things down. In this, he was simply following the advice given in 2:282 to put
things down in writing: ‘have a scribe write it down justly between you’. One
of his first acts after arriving in Medina was to write a constitution for the city
that guaranteed security and religious freedom, established a system of taxes
and mechanisms for resolving conflicts [39]. When the Prophet returned to
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his birthplace, after the conquest of Mecca, he forgave all those who had per-
secuted and driven him out of the city, but gave some of them an important
responsibility: to teach ten Muslims how to read and write. Reading and writ-
ing are thus at the very core of Islam.
But the pen can be used for promulgating good as well as promoting evil.
The opening verses of chapter 68, which is called ‘The Pen’, illustrate the point.
‘By the pen! By all they write!’ it begins, ‘Your Lord’s grace does not make you
[Prophet] a madman’ (68:1–3). One of the first allegations of the people of
Mecca against the Prophet was that he was mad. Such assertions do not
become true simply because they have been written down. But ‘by what they
write’ has a double meaning. It is, of course, a general reference to what people
write. But it also refers to the Qur’an itself which was being written down by
a coterie of scribes as it was being revealed [40]. The allegation of madness was
directed as much at the Prophet as what was being revealed to him—the
Qur’an. While refuting the allegations against the Prophet, the Qur’an asks of
the accusers: ‘do they have [access to] the unseen? Could they write it down?’
(52:41). In other words, could you justify your allegations by writing some-
thing enduring and eternal like the Qur’an, the ‘Noble Reading’?
The written word can thus serve a number of purposes. In its literal sense,
the Qur’an tells us, the word—spoken or written—is always an expression of
one’s ethical and moral intent. Hence, the Qur’an divides the word into two
categories. ‘A good word is like a good tree whose root is firm and whose
branches are high in the sky, yielding constant fruit by its Lord’s leave.’ In con-
trast, ‘an evil word is like a rotten tree, uprooted from the surface of the earth,
with no power to endure’ (14:24–6). The good word, good writing, is not only
a form of solace, a mode of communicating thought, experience, insight and
knowledge from individual to individual, generation to generation, from one
culture to another; it is also something that will endure and survive the test of
time. And good words also have the blessings of the One who creates them in
the first place: ‘God will give firmness to those who believe in the firmly rooted
word, both in this world and the Hereafter’ (14:27).
The good words, however, cannot be read in any which way. We need to
read and evaluate what we read; without critical awareness we cannot attain
the best possible meaning: ‘listen to what is said and follow what is best’
(39:18). There are numerous and different ways of reading. Something written
with good intention can be read in a bad way. Reading, the Qur’an tell us, is
always an exercise in interpretation. And the choices we make in reading a
sacred text like the Qur’an itself are always ethical choices.
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READING AND WRITING
This brings us to the great conundrum of Muslim society today: the appall-
ing literacy rates in so many Muslim countries, and worst of all when one con-
siders the literacy rates for women. How on earth did we, the believers, get
ourselves into such a dreadful mess? There can be no excuses, particularly when
we have the example of Muslim history where free education, public institu-
tions such as libraries and centres for scientific enquiry with free public access
existed alongside the systematic efforts to translate and make available in writ-
ten form as much of the learning of the world as could be accumulated [41].
There are however reasons. The home-grown reasons include the veneration
Muslims have for the oral form of the Qur’an: we get excited when we hear
that a young man has become a hafidh and can recite the Qur’an cover to cover
by memory, but we should not think that this is an education by itself. That
we love to hear the Qur’an recited is not and should never be a reason for
assuming that nothing more is required for an individual to learn to genuinely
read and write. It is no substitute for ensuring that everyone is literate. When
so many Muslims around the world are not native Arabic speakers, being able
to recite the Qur’an is no qualification for fulfilling the Qur’an’s emphasis on
reading and writing in one’s own language. Then there is the veneration for
rote learning and memorisation which began with the Qur’an and has
remained the basis of formal religious education up to and including today.
These techniques may have been valid once upon a time. Today they are an
impediment to the development of critical consciousness, which the Qur’an
itself insists is what reading is for. Then there are a host of reasons that have to
do with the consequences of history, the legacy of colonialism, the tension
between tradition and modernity that made preserving Islamic tradition with
its oral Qur’an, memorisation and rote learning the last redoubt of cultural
survival and independence. The results, nevertheless, are diametrically opposite
to what the Qur’an itself teaches. There are also the consequences of underde-
velopment and lack of resources to invest in education.
All these reasons notwithstanding, I am at a loss to understand how Mus-
lims can not only tolerate but also endorse this state of affairs. The duties and
responsibilities of believing women being the same as those of believing men,
denying women an education only increases the harm. A society steeped in
illiteracy, I believe, cannot really claim to be guided by the Qur’an—even
though it may label itself as an ‘Islamic republic’! Tackling illiteracy is thus the
most urgent task facing Muslim societies today.
Literate culture, a culture of books, is barely tolerated in many Muslim soci-
eties. Those who produce books have the unfortunate habit of having ideas.
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These book-borne ideas often serve as a challenge to both religious and state
authorities. Reading and writing invite oppression almost everywhere in the
Muslim world. Debate, tolerance and a diversity of viewpoints, concern to
advance knowledge and enhance understanding—these are troublesome and
potentially dangerous threats to the powers that be. Conformity, a passive
population that does not ask questions but merely mouths familiar certainties,
is much more tractable, fit to be told what to think and what to do. But it is
not my vision of what a People of the Book should be!
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Part Four
CONTEMPORARY TOPICS
41
INTRODUCTION
Reading the Qur’an thematically has enabled us to connect various verses in

different parts of the Qur’an and see the text in much more holistic terms as
interconnected, bound together by the interrelationships of what it is saying.
I would not suggest the connections to each theme were exhaustive, but most
certainly they allowed us to draw more general conclusions when compared
to verse-by-verse analysis. Moreover, a thematic reading also allowed us to
use tools of critical analysis ranging from semantics, hermeneutics and cul-
tural theory to contextual analysis and old-fashioned intellectual (Socratic)
questioning. In the process, I hope we have seen that the whole can some-
times produce a bigger, more nuanced and hence more moral picture than
the parts.
Anyway, there are two conclusions that I would like to draw, both of which
go against the grain.
The ultimate goal of the Sacred Text is to provide moral and ethical guid-
ance. But morality does not end with the Qur’an—a common assumption
amongst most Muslims. Morality begins with the Qur’an. The Qur’an paints
the boundaries of the moral universe in broad brush strokes, points to the
outer limits, and illuminates universal precepts. After that, it asks believers to
explore, enhance, expand and develop their own understanding of morality
and ethics according to their own context and times. This is what being a
trustee of God is all about.
We can say the same about knowledge. The Qur’an is undoubtedly a book
of knowledge. But all knowledge does not converge into the Qur’an—it is not
the sum of all knowledge, a common Muslim fallacy. On the contrary, knowl-
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edge diverges from the Qur’an: its emphasis on reasoning, criticism, reading,
writing, observation, accuracy and travel are impetuses for the general pursuit
of knowledge; the Qur’an presents knowledge as cumulative, something that
builds up over time.
And so to a frequently asked question: why are Muslims so far removed
from the enlightened teachings of the Qur’an?
My answer is that this is largely due to three category mistakes. Most Mus-
lims think that the only valid interpretation of the Qur’an is the one made in
history, particularly by the first generation of Muslims. This, in my opinion, is
a theory of decline: no progress is possible if all progress has already been made
in history, over 1,400 years ago. In addition, moral evolution comes to a grind-
ing halt if you think that all morality ends with the Qur’an, and we, our con-
science and modern knowledge have nothing to do with expanding or
discovering contemporary moral insights based on the principles of the Qur’an.
Finally, your fate is really sealed if you believe that the Qur’an is a repository
of all knowledge and there is nothing for you to discover. These three category
mistakes undermine the ethos of the Qur’an, and are the main causes of the
degeneration, discord and current impasse in Muslim societies.
This is a failure of Muslim reasoning. As a result many Muslims are quite
incapable of articulating moral positions on contemporary issues. Or perhaps
one should say that their approach to answering the moral dilemmas of con-
temporary times does not take the present, its knowledge and complexity seri-
ously, preferring comparisons with the world as it was centuries ago. Such
dedication to historical interpretations far too often ends up justifying the
unjustifiable with outmoded quotes and slogans.
The discrepancy between theory and practice, I fear, becomes even more
evident when we look at some of the burning issues of our time, such as the
veil and treatment of women, sexuality, politics and freedom of expression.
The Qur’an’s position on such issues cannot be stated simply by lifting indi-
vidual verses out of context and interpreting them on their own as ‘the final
word’ of God. Rather, as in the thematic section, we need to make connections
with other verses of the Qur’an, elsewhere in the text, examine the context,
and tease out what the Qur’an is saying to us in our time. The purpose of the
exercise is not to discover some sort of ‘absolute truth’, which is known only to
God, but to get a more holistic and nuanced picture.
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42
THE SHARI‘A
Given that Shari‘a is often described as ‘God’s Law’ and has become central to
Muslim existence, one would expect the term to appear frequently in the
Qur’an. However, strictly speaking, Shari‘a is not a Qur’anic concept—unlike
such concepts as ‘adl (justice), khalifa (trusteeship) or jihad (sustained struggle),
which are repeatedly mentioned, discussed and elaborated in the Qur’an.
The word Shari‘a occurs, in variations, twice in the Qur’an. In 45:18 we
read: ‘We have sent you O Muhammad on a clear religious path.’ The path
referred to here is clearly the path of the Qur’an and the guidance that it pro-
vides. In 5:48 we are told: ‘We have assigned a law and a path to each of you.’
The reference here is to guidance that God has provided to all nations and
communities through His prophets, according to the time and condition of
each community. In neither case can we infer that the term Shari‘a represents
a codified canon of unchanging law designed to exist for all time.
Literally, the word Shari‘a means ‘the way to a watering hole’, a place where
one can drink, refresh and revive oneself. The term came into vogue in the
eighth century, during the Abbasid period when Islamic law was beginning to
be institutionalised. The Shari‘a was socially constructed in history [1] not just
as law but also as morality. It is now used to mean simultaneously both law and
morality.
The Shari‘a, we are told, is divine and cannot be changed [2], so one would
expect it to have a direct relationship with the Qur’an. Yet, few aspects of the
Shari‘a are directly based on or derived from the Qur’an itself. If, for example,
we look at the Muwatta‘ [3], the seminal legal text by eighth-century jurist
Imam Malik (c.711–95), whose example was followed and is claimed as the
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founder of one school of thought on Islamic law, we see that the Qur’an is
there only as an embellishment. Malik relies extensively on Hadith, the tradi-
tions of the Prophet Muhammad. The point is significant for a fundamental
reason. Those concerned to implement a system of administration and justice
turned to Hadith precisely because the Qur’an itself provided such sparse leg-
islative injunctions. How it was to be made the basis of governance for a rapidly
expanding domain required additional debate and thought. The most obvious
source of practical information was how Muhammad, the messenger and prin-
cipal teacher of its meaning, had acted as the leader of an actual community.
Something else also came into play when the Shari‘a was being formulated:
Arab custom. Here too Malik was influential. He was the only putative founder
of a school of thought never to leave Arabia, spending his life in Medina. How
the Prophet determined matters in the context of Arab custom then played a
central role in shaping Islamic law, its growth and development.
Classical jurists divided the sources of Islamic law into two main categories:
principal sources and supplementary sources. Principal sources included the
Qur’an, the Sunna (the actions and authentic Traditions of the Prophet), ijma‘
(the consensus of the opinion of the religious scholars) and qiyas (judgements
based on juristic analogy). Supplementary sources, developed over a period of
time, included istihsan, istisla and ‘urf. Al-Istihsan, literarily ‘seeking the good’,
was a principle developed by Imam Abu Hanifah (699–765), founder of the
Hanafi School of Islamic Law. It means that laws should be based on equity
and justice as defined by God in the Qur’an and expressed in the Sunna. Istisla,
or seeking what is correct and wholesome, was the principle developed by
Imam Malik. It emphasises public interest and establishes public and individual
good as the basic criteria for the development of Islamic Law. Finally, ‘urf is
the custom of a particular society. Custom, the theory goes, becomes part of
Islamic law where it does not violate the clear injunctions of the Qur’an and
Sunna. The various supplementary sources of Islamic law—including analogy
and opinion of the jurist, which I regard as secondary rather than primary
sources—are in fact methods for utilising, drawing inference from and thus
understanding the basic sources: the Qur’an and the Sunna. These methods,
as well as the outcome of their use, are human products. What these methods,
and the diversity of opinions based on them, actually demonstrate is that the
Qur’an and Sunna, and hence Islamic law, are highly flexible and open to a
number of interpretations. Unfortunately, as Islamic law evolved, juristic opin-
ion came to be viewed in dogmatic terms, as expressing the final or finished
interpretation. The real basis of Islamic law thus became not the Qur’an and
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THE SHARI‘A
Sunna per se but the methods developed to utilise the fundamental sources
and the opinions that emerged from using these methods. It is worth noting
that none of the classical jurists who developed these methods ever claimed a
monopoly on interpretation or regarded their opinions as the last word. It was
later generations that attributed finality to their findings, as various schools of
Islamic law gradually evolved, developed and were canonised.
What is regarded as Islamic law nowadays is essentially a body of juristic
opinions that began to be socially constructed during the early Abbasid period
of the eighth and ninth centuries. Today, what is understood as the Shari‘a
incorporates layer upon layer of classical legal rulings, known as fiqh, or juris-
prudence, which has acquired an immutable status [4]. When people look to
the Shari‘a for guidance on a particular issue, what they are actually looking at
is fiqh, the rulings of medieval jurists, rather than looking directly at how the
Qur’an treats that issue. And these rulings define not just law but also morality.
So the legal injunctions developed to solve the problems of a bygone era based
on the social and cultural circumstances and understanding of a medieval soci-
ety have come to be seen as the law and morality of Muslim societies for all
times! It is hardly surprising then that not much of the Shari‘a has any con-
temporary relevance and bears little relationship to what the Qur’an actually
says. This is why wherever the Shari‘a is imposed (and it is always imposed!),
as for example in Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan under the Taliban, it reproduces
the conditions of medieval times.
The discrepancy between theory as presented in the Qur’an and the Shari‘a,
which is supposed to put Qur’anic principles and injunctions into practice,
arises in three forms: (1) the Shari‘a frequently acts against the strict injunc-
tions of the Qur’an; (2) what the Qur’an relegates to the periphery as extreme
or boundary conditions, the Shari‘a brings to the centre and makes them the
norm; and (3) while the Qur’an repeatedly insists on justice, the Shari‘a often
ends up propagating injustice.
To give a few examples:
1. The Qur’an declares that ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ (2:256), but
the Shari‘a prescribes capital punishment for apostasy.
2. The Shari‘a prescribes stoning to death for adultery. Nowhere in the Qur’an
do we find anything remotely related to stoning. Moreover, the Qur’anic
legislation on adultery, as we shall see in Chapter 46, ‘Sex and Society’,
makes it virtually impossible to prove adultery.
3. The Qur’an asks for four witnesses to prove ‘lewd’ behaviour to ensure that
injustice is not committed on those who are accused of such behaviour,
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particularly women. The Shari‘a treats rape and ‘lewd’ behaviour as equal.
In the absence of four witnesses, the rape victims are treated as adulterers
and punished as such; thus, under the Shari‘a, they are doubly victimised.
4. The Qur’an, as we shall see, prescribes no specific punishment for homo-
sexuality. The Shari‘a, on the other hand, insists on capital punishment.
5. Virtually all of the Shari‘a legislation regarding women—divorce, alimony,
custody of children—is in fact misogynist and anti-women, whereas the
Qur’an demands that men and women should be treated equally before
the law.
6. The Shari‘a makes hudud punishments the norm. As we have already seen,
hadd means outer limits or boundary and is concerned with establishing
the moral tone of the Muslim community. Yet, by turning it into a norm
the Shari‘a makes capital punishment a standard feature of Islamic law.
Under the Shari‘a, there seems to be only one rule: kill everybody who dis-
agrees with you, or is seen by you as deviant, or breaks your rules. It is the
total antithesis of the spirit of the Qur’an.
These few examples illustrate how far the Shari‘a has deviated from the
teachings of the Qur’an, and how little relevance it has to the Sacred Text. Its
development is intertwined with the social and cultural dynamics of the devel-
opment of Muslim rule, which go a long way to explaining how irrelevant,
absurd and ridiculous the Shari‘a appears in the contemporary world [5].
Why has the Shari‘a deviated so far from the spirit of the Qur’an? The
Shari‘a developed in the midst of the historic realities of Muslim society. The
vital aspects of this society need to be considered. During its early centuries
Muslim history was in its expansionist phase, and Shari‘a incorporated the
logic of Muslim imperialism. The Shari‘a rulings on apostasy, for example,
derive from this logic. The same can be said of the division of the world into
Dar al Islam and Dar al Harb. The Shari‘a preserved a simplistic expansionist
view which could foster hostility to non-Muslims by demarcating ‘the abode
of peace’ (lands under the dominance of Islam) and ‘the domain of war’
(regions where it confronted ‘the infidel’). Within its area of dominance, a
complex process of adaptation and cultural change was underway. Muslim
society and hence the Shari‘a was not just a product of Arabia. It was the out-
come of the interplay between a Sacred Text contextually rooted in Arabian
society transported to rule over lands with their own long history of complex
organisation: the Hellenised Middle East and the Persian Empire. The more
those out of Arabia became intertwined with the peoples and lands over which
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THE SHARI‘A
they ruled, the more adaptation and accommodation became a two-way pro-
cess. Converts to Islam brought their own cultural histories, understandings
of custom as well as their social and cultural formation in different religious
traditions to their interpretation and application of the Qur’an. The formation
and content of the Shari‘a was expansive not just in terms of the dynamics of
imperialism but also in human, social and cultural terms. Moreover, those who
framed the Shari‘a were not the managers of society. They were concerned
largely with individual and specific legal matters rather than with theorising
the implications of their judgements for society as a whole. The dynamics and
requirements of power were often at odds with the religious and intellectual
elite who served as judges, framing and developing ideas of law and morality.
The Shari‘a developed with an inner tension and division between those who
governed and set themselves above society and those who framed the law.
We need to appreciate the fact that, far from being Divine, the Shari‘a is
almost totally a human product. By insisting that an outmoded body of man-
made law is Divine, we do an injustice both to the Qur’an and to ourselves.
Criticism of the Shari‘a is often shunned and outlawed by appealing to its
divine nature. The elevation of the Shari‘a to the divine level also means the
believers themselves have no agency: since ‘The Law’ is a priori given, people
themselves have nothing to do except to follow it. Even if the law is patently
unjust, violates the basic principles of ethics and morality, it has to be followed.
There is just no provision for the believers, as individuals, to engage critically
with the law. Yet, the Shari‘a, as a way to a watering hole, should be the source
from which the believers quench their thirst for knowledge and contemporary
relevance. It should be a problem-solving methodology [6] that requires the
believers to exert themselves and constantly reinterpret the Qur’an and look
at the life of the Prophet Muhammad with fresh eyes. Just as the Qur’an has
to be reinterpreted from epoch to epoch, so the Shari‘a has to be reformulated
to accommodate and make sense of changing contexts.
Frankly, the historic methods used to develop Islamic law, such as analogy,
consensus and custom, are rudimentary. They cannot meet the challenge of
contemporary times. We need to rethink not just what would constitutes
Islamic law in contemporary times, but also how we study and derive legal
principles from the Qur’an which are relevant to our epoch. The Qur’an itself
sees law as dynamic and provides ample space for change and accommodation.
It provides the template of enduring values which have to be delivered to fur-
ther the objectives of its moral and ethical framework according to the circum-
stances in which people live. Indeed, even what the Qur’an prohibits may
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become permissible when the situation demands: ‘if someone is forced by hun-
ger, rather than by desire or excess, then God is most forgiving, most merciful’
(6:145). Moreover, the door is wide open to adopt anything new that is good,
wholesome and of utility, whatever its origins: ‘the unlettered Prophet’ ‘com-
mands them to do right and forbids them to do wrong, who makes good things
lawful to them and bad things unlawful, and relieves them of their burdens
and the iron collars that were on them’ (7:17). It defies both the Qur’an and
logic to suggest that law and morality have not evolved or that nothing good
has come out of the centuries since the Shari‘a was first formulated.
Classical Muslim scholars, like Malik, did recognise the principle but argued
that even though the law is occasioned by a specific situation, its application
is universal. That, I believe, was a fundamental error. The ‘iron collar’ in 7:17
refers to difficult obligations imposed on the Children to Israel. It seems to me
that by making universal a law that was produced in a specific situation during
a specific period, the Shari‘a has been turned into an ‘iron collar’ around the
neck of Muslim societies, and keeps them from moving forward into the twen-
ty-first century. Law changes as society and its needs change. Islamic law can-
not be ‘law’ if it is frozen in history. To be considered as law, the Shari‘a must
be dynamic, constantly changing and adjusting to change, while remaining
faithful to the principles of the Qur’an. Moreover, we need to distinguish
between legal enactments, which are subject to change, and universal moral
injunctions. Only by making this distinction can we truly understand the spirit
of the Qur’an—and develop a Shari‘a that promotes justice and equity and
guides the believers to ‘a clear religious path’.
We also need to recognise that the Shari‘a has become truncated by history.
As Muslim lands became subject to colonial European rule, more and more of
the business of society was handed over to administration under European
codes of law. It was hardly the concern of colonial administrations to inject
dynamism into Islamic law, indeed it served their purpose to encourage and
promote the view that Shari‘a was an established, fixed and unchanging canon
in those areas where they feared to interfere with its operation. As a distinct
legal system, Shari‘a became even more fossilised as purely a code of personal
and family law. Where once studying the basis of Islamic law was the means of
progressing to education in a variety of disciplines, increasingly Islamic educa-
tion became downgraded to mastering an ever more fixed and limited section
of purely religious disciplines. Those who knew Islamic law knew less and less
of a rapidly modernising world around them. To move forward it is not the
inherited, fossilised body of law conventionally termed the Shari‘a that is nec-
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THE SHARI‘A
essary. What is needed, on the one hand, is a robust study of the history of
ideas to unravel the immovable object the Shari‘a has become; and, on the
other hand, there is a desperate need for robust reasoning about how to recover
the means of making laws consonant with Qur’anic principle and values that
operate its moral and ethical framework to serve the actual needs of society.
The Shari‘a has to become a vigorous, dynamic work of human reason.
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43
POWER AND POLITICS
The Qur’an describes itself as ‘a guidance’, a manual outlining how to live a

good life. As such it is intensely concerned with all aspects of governance. It
deals with governance of the self that is both spiritual and mundane, extending
to all aspects of thought and daily living. The good person is the prime focus
of the principles and values of its moral and ethical framework. However, self-
governance, living a good life by doing good deeds, is only one aspect of the
message. The Qur’an is also concerned with governance in the sense of the
organisation of society. The consistent emphasis in the Qur’an is that the good
person is impossible without accepting responsibility for the creation and
advancement of a good society. The moral and ethical framework it outlines
embraces and includes both the individual and the collective. The responsibil-
ity for undertaking transformative action is placed upon the individual work-
ing with and within the community as a whole. The Qur’an does not present
a prescriptive view of a specific kind of political system or system of gover-
nance, but fulfilling its objectives, demands a style of engaging with society
that could be termed participatory democracy. This vision is both distinctive
and extensive.
The issues of politics and power are discussed in the Qur’an through histori-
cal and allegorical verses. These verses talk in general terms about transgression,
spreading corruption on earth and limits to power with references to the his-
tory of Arabia, Egypt, Palestine as well as the Eastern Roman Empire and Iraq.
The overt message is that God will deal with the tyrants of the present and the
future just as He dealt with the tyrants of the past: with punishment, ruin and
dishonour. The underlying meaning is that absolute power corrupts absolutely,
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leads to tyranny, which inevitably leads to the decline and downfall of empires
and societies.
The results of abuse of power are illustrated in a number of narratives of
historic people. In several places, the Qur’an asks the reader to remember ‘the
stories about their predecessors, the people of Noah, Ad, Thamud, Abraham,
Midian, and the ruined cities’ (9:70). The people of Ad, who lived in South
Arabia, were endowed with great power and stature (7:69). But they became
‘vain’ and began to ‘act like tyrants’ (26:128–30). The people of Tahmud, who
succeeded the people of Ad, behaved in a similar manner. Moses and his
brother Aaron were sent to the Pharaoh of Egypt because he had ‘exceeded all
bounds’ (20:43), and ‘made himself high and mighty in the land and divided
people into different groups: one group he oppressed, slaughtering their sons’
(28:4), while favouring the other group. All three tyrannies met a similar fate:
‘Have you not considered how your Lord dealt with [the people] of Ad, of
Iram, [the city] of lofty pillars, whose like has never been in any land, and the
Thamud, who hewed into the rocks in the valley, and the mighty and powerful
Pharaoh? All of them committed excess in the land, and spread corruption
there: your Lord let a scourge of punishment loose on them. Your Lord is
always watchful’ (89:6–14).
The import of these verses is clear: God hates tyrants. Power has to be exer-
cised on the basis of mercy and compassion and be used to uphold justice and
equity in all its manifestations.
But a further point is being made in these and similar other verses. Tyranny
is perpetuated when rulers assume they have absolute power. In the Qur’an,
the word for possessing power or to have power and dominion (mulk) is used
exclusively for God. There are two exceptions: mulk (kingdom) and the associ-
ated word malik (king) are used with reference to David, Solomon and Saul,
where they are said to have a kingdom and are described as prophet-rulers. But
in all other places in the Qur’an, mulk and malik refer only to God, as for
instance in 5:17: ‘God’s is the kingdom of the heavens and the earth and all
that is in between’ or ‘Say God, Lord of the Kingdom!’ (3:26). The exclusive
use suggests that only God can be described as king, and absolute power
belongs only to God, ‘the all knowing and wise’ (9:15), who has ‘power over
all things’ (35:1). To assume absolute power is to assume you ‘can withhold
the blessings God opens up for people’ or ‘release whatever He withholds’
(35:2). It is, in fact, to assume you have power over life and death; power to do
as you wish; power to rule without accountability; power to sit in judgement
over others and power to make law and put yourself above the law. In short,
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you have the power of God; or, at least, to think and act as if sharing the power
of God. ‘How can you be so deluded?’ (35:3), the Qur’an asks. ‘He does not
allow anyone to share His rule’ (18:26).
It is precisely to avoid absolute power, along with the oppression and tyr-
anny that accompanies it, that the Qur’an provides guidance on who should
rule, how the rulers should be chosen, why we should obey the rulers and when
the rulers should not be obeyed.
To begin with, political leadership is not something that is inherited, or is
automatically conferred on the basis of class or wealth. After Abraham made
Mecca his home, and had purified the House of God ‘for those who walk
around it, those who stay there, and those who bow and prostrate in worship’
(2:125), he prayed for the city to become ‘a heaven of peace and prosperity for
ever’ (14:35). Naturally, he was concerned how the city would function and
be led after his time. So: ‘When Abraham’s Lord tested him with certain com-
mandments, which he fulfilled, He said, “I will make you a leader of the peo-
ple.” Abraham asked, “And will you make leaders from my descendents too?”
God answered, “My pledge does not hold for those who do evil”’ (2:124).
Thus, even the descendants of a prophet have no legitimate claim to leadership.
That is why when Solomon prayed for power he did not wish it to become
some sort of inheritance: ‘Lord forgive me!’ Solomon prayed, ‘grant me such
power as no one after me will have’ (38:35). In relating the story of Talut/Saul,
the Qur’an rejects class and wealth as irrelevant for political authority: ‘Their
Prophets said to them, “God has appointed Talut/Saul to be your king”, but
they said, “How can he be king over us when we have a greater right to rule
than he? He does not even have great wealth.” He said, “God has chosen him
over you, and he has given him great knowledge and stature”’ (2:247).
Apart from prophet-kings, who are a special case, the Qur’an does not look
on monarchs with favour. As the Queen of Sheba notes, ‘whenever kings go
into a city, they ruin it and humiliate its leaders—that is what they do’
(27:34). Instead, the Qur’an suggests that power should be acquired through
a social process. It should be generated, organised and distributed as a collec-
tive endeavour, involving everyone. ‘Those who believe and trust in their
Lord’, declares the Sacred Text, ‘conduct their affairs by mutual consultation’
(42:38). While the Qur’an contains no reference to the notion of ‘the state’,
the only term with any specific political connotation that appears in the
Sacred Text is ‘shura’ or consultation. Indeed, consultation in running the
affairs of the community is so important that even the Prophet is required to
consult—not just those who follow him but also those who disagree and dis-
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obey him. One group disobeyed the Prophet’s military orders, causing heavy
loss to the Muslim army. They were not ‘court marshalled’, but were treated
with kindness. The Qur’an refers to the incident in 3:159: ‘By an act of mercy
from God, you were gentle in your dealings with them—had you been harsh,
or hard-headed, they would have dispersed and left you—so pardon them and
ask forgiveness for them. Consult with them about matters, then, when you
have decided on a course of action’ (3:159). Consultation is thus a paramount
principle in all affairs of the state.
It is the process of consultation that gives legitimacy to political authority.
And it is because of this legitimacy that ‘the people’ (al nas, the people, is a con-
cept that occurs repeatedly in the Qur’an indeed, it is one of the principal cat-
egories to which the Qur’an is specifically addressed) are required to obey the
leaders: ‘You who believe, obey God and the Messenger, and those in authority
among you’ (4:59). However, this compliance is not unconditional.
It is not enough that power is acquired through lawful means. The ends of
power too have to be legitimate for compliance to have any meaning. Power
has to be directed towards just goals if it is to be and remain legitimate. The
function of a political leader is to do justice, uphold the law and work to fulfil
the needs and requirements of the community. This is clear from God’s advice
to David: ‘David, we have made you viceroy over the earth. Judge fairly
between people. Do not follow your desires, lest they divert you from God’s
path’ (38:26). Political leaders are required to uphold the law in all circum-
stances. Even those people who may despise them or not support them must
be treated within the bounds of the law: ‘do not let your hatred for the people
who barred you from the Sacred Mosque induce you to break the law: help
one another to do what is right and good; do not help one another towards
sin and hostility’ (5:2). And, like the believers in general, leaders are required
to be humble and grateful to God: ‘you need not grieve for what you miss or
gloat over what you gain. God does not love the conceited, the boastful, those
who are miserly, and who tell other people to be miserly’ (57:24).
If the leaders do not fulfil their obligation to promote justice, in social, eco-
nomic and political terms as we discussed in chapter 16, and uphold the law,
the people are duty-bound not to obey them. The believers are told explicitly,
‘do not obey those who are given to excess and who spread corruption in the
land instead of doing what is right’ (26:150–52); and ‘do not yield to those
whose hearts we have made heedless of our Qur’an, those who follow their
own desires, those whose ways are unbridled’ (18:28). Political leaders, even
those who came to power legitimately through consultation, lose their legiti-
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macy if they follow ‘their own desires’. They are thus required to hand power
back; or have power taken from them.
Power within the framework of the Qur’an is a trust, an amana. It is both
a trust from God as ‘God grants His authority to whoever He pleases’ (2:247)
and from the people who have been consulted and agreed to entrust the role
of leadership to a particular individual. The leader is thus responsible for this
trust to both: to God in the Hereafter; and to the people in this world. If this
trust is not handled properly, it should be handed back diligently and without
violence: ‘God commands you [people] to return things entrusted to you to
their rightful owners, and, if you judge between people, do so with justice’
(4:58). Trust here refers especially to the affairs of government; the implication
is that power should be handed back to the people, who should choose another
person who can fulfil the trust of political leadership.
It is worth noting that the term Caliphate, in the specific sense of political
institution, does not occur in the Qur’an. The word Calipahate is derived from
khalifa, which as we saw in chapter 38 is best translated as ‘trustee of God’. It
has no connotations of a delegated political authority, or political representa-
tion, or political organisation. The verse ‘He made you successor on this earth’
(repeated in a number of places, such as 24:55; 35:39; 6:165), sometimes used
to justify the Caliphate, has no political implication. Indeed, the notion that
one group of people succeed over another, or one generation succeeds over
another, contains the idea of human development or evolution rather than
political structures. The conceptual introduction of the term khalifa in the
story of Adam and his wife, as discussed earlier, deals with the creation and
endowment of all humanity rather than a class of political leaders. If the politi-
cal institution of the Caliphate had any importance for Islam, it would not
only have been mentioned but also be repeated and discussed in many places.
As God says in the Sacred Text, ‘we have neglected nothing in the Book’ (6:38).
The Prophet does not use the term either or suggest that such a system of gov-
ernance should be established. So where does the whole idea come from?
The early leaders of the Muslim community were known as Amir al-Mumi-
nin, leader or commander of the faithful. The title suggested that they had
political and military authority. Later, the term khalifa began to be used in
official, government circles. In the early use of the term khalifa, or Caliph, the
political leader of the Muslim community was described as khalifat rasul Allah,
or the deputy of the Prophet of God. This was reduced to a shorter, but more
powerful, title: khalifat Allah, deputy of God. We can detect a slow but sure
movement towards self-aggrandisement. It was a shift in terminology that
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came after military victory brought Muslim rule over what had been powerful
and highly centralised empires.
The first four leaders to emerge after the death of the Prophet Muham-
mad—Abu Bakr (d.634), Umar (d.644), Othman (d.656) and Ali (d.661)—
did not see or describe themselves as Caliphs or ‘rightly guided’. They saw
themselves as ordinary men and were simply referred to as Amir al-Muminin.
They were sanctified much later as ‘The Rightly Guided Caliphs’, both to
avoid disputes between Muslims and to draw a sharp line in Islamic history
between legitimately elected leaders and hereditary monarchs. The Rightly
Guided Caliphs were non-hereditary leaders who were chosen through vari-
ous processes—election, selection, consensus amongst the majority—which
can be described as democratic. They were totally accountable to the com-
munity and were questioned, challenged and held to account by ordinary
citizens. They believed in consultation as an integral part of their system of
governance. But the reign of three of the four Caliphs ended in murder; the
last two amidst a bloody civil war.
After the period of The Rightly Guided Caliphs, the Caliphate degenerates
into a hereditary system. The style and system of government of the two suc-
cessive dynasties, the Umayyads and the Abbasids, were autocratic and harsh.
Succession amongst the Abbasids, for example, was brutal and bloody and
frequently ended with one son killing all his rival siblings [7]. The idea that
the ruler is ‘vicegerent of God’ was also introduced by the Abbasids: their claim
to absolute power could only be justified by Divine dispensation. In historic
terms this process reflects acculturation to the forms and aggrandisement char-
acteristic of the Persian emperors whom Muslim rulers displaced, rather than
Qur’anic principles. The notions of accountability and consultation were
drained of all their content: the Caliph’s words were law while he was totally
above the law. The duty of the citizens to obey the Caliph was reinforced as
passive and full submission.
The injunction for ‘mutual consultation’, shura, emphasised so strongly in
the Qur’an, was drained of all meaning through a process of systematic reduc-
tion. First, the religious scholars argued, consultation excludes those areas
where Divine guidance in the Qur’an, and the examples and sayings of the
Prophet Muhammad, are clear-cut. Then the scope of shura was further limited
to the practice of early Companions of the Prophet, ahl al-shura, or a group
of consultants. Their examples were to be followed in community affairs
whether they were relevant or not, even though the context might have
changed totally. Then the examples of the Companions of the Companions
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had to be copied. Then the decisions of the early jurists, who had codified the
Shari‘a, or Islamic law, had to be followed unquestionably. So society is always
looking back to previous generations, rather than thinking for itself or looking
forward. At the end of the process, the citizens had nothing left to do but to
obey and follow. It made public opinion and public interest irrelevant, out-
lawed dissent, banned innovation, and promoted monocracy and absolute
power. Not surprisingly, it spelled the decay and degeneration of Muslim cul-
ture and civilisation.
As a political theory, I would argue, the Caliphate has no redeeming fea-
tures, nothing to recommend it. Those who demand ‘the return of Caliphate’,
or hark back to some perfect political order, are dupes of somnambulant
desires. Just as the Shari‘a turned the believer into an empty vessel, so the politi-
cal theory of the Caliphate transformed the citizens of a Muslim state into
passive, obedient servants.
In more recent times, the notion of sovereignty of God has been used to
similar ends. God, says the Qur’an, is ‘Holder of Sovereignty’ (3:26). Authority
and Judgement ‘belongs to God alone’ (12:40; 6:57) who is All Powerful and
All Knowing. If God is the Sovereign of the Universe, the argument goes, He
is also Sovereign in terms of politics. Since sovereignty belongs to God, it fol-
lows that it cannot belong to the state or the people. All elements constituting
a Muslim government are subject to the commandment of God, the Lawmaker.
So law-making authority cannot be given, say, to a parliament, let alone the
people; neither can supreme control of government affairs be vested in politi-
cal parties or the people as a whole. This simplistic argument is turned into a
neat, totalitarian formula.
The formula works like this. The Muslim community cannot exist as a com-
munity of believers in the Qur’an without upholding God’s law, or the Shari‘a.
An ‘Islamic state’ [8] becomes ‘Islamic’ by the virtue of the fact that it imposes
the Shari‘a on its citizens. As the true guardians of the Shari‘a, the religious
scholars have the right and the duty to enforce the Shari‘a. As such, political
authority belongs in the hands of the religious scholars, or at least, the rulers
must be subject to their guidance and supervision. The citizens only have the
obligation of obeying the religious scholars, which amounts to obeying God,
and the leaders they support. They have no right to resistance against the
political rulers, as they are only exercising the authority of God, through His
Law. Nowhere in this formula is there any place for free will or accountability
or peoples’ participation in governance or indeed independent, free-thinking
citizens. Religion, politics, law and morality are all rolled into a single bundle
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that is directly or indirectly controlled by a single elite. Thus, tyranny, despo-

tism and autocracy are justified in Muslim societies.
The ruler becomes beyond reproach. If he is the ‘Supreme Leader’, or
Welayat Faqih (the ‘Guardian Jurist’), who rules in the name of God, the
Prophet and the Imams, who is both spiritual and political leader, legislator
and executor, then he is in fact an absolute sovereign [9]. He cannot be ques-
tioned and all his decisions have to be accepted. He is the measure of good
and evil: what he does is good, what he forbids is evil. If the king is an heredi-
tary monarch, whose rule is supported by the religious scholars, who cannot
be held accountable for their decisions or opinions, who imposes God’s law
on his people, then His Majesty has limitless powers to do whatever he wills.
Such totalitarian systems not only perpetuate tyranny and oppression, but
kill the critical faculties of their citizens, paralyse reason and thwart thought
and creativity. That is why Muslim societies are intellectually dead and cre-
atively asleep.
Of course, Sovereignty of the Universe belongs to God. As the Supreme
Ruler of the universe, the affairs of the cosmos, including the physical and
spiritual condition of human beings, are absolutely directed by the Will and
Wisdom of God. But this will is equivalent (but not equal) to the immutable
laws of nature which do not change for anyone. It is in this sense that ‘authority
belongs to God alone’ (12:40). To argue that God’s sovereignty operates in the
political affairs of society in the same way as in the working of nature is absurd
[10]. If His sovereignty operates through His Law, or Shari‘a, as some would
argue, then it does not amount to very much. Unlike the laws of nature which
cannot be denied, acceptance of the Laws of God is optional. As God Himself
says, ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ (2:256) so you are free to accept or
reject Divine Laws. Moreover, these laws, unlike laws of nature, do not have
permanency: they are open to interpretations, they can change according to
context—what is halal (allowed) may become haram (forbidden) under par-
ticular circumstances, and vice versa—and they can be enforced by one politi-
cal leader and removed by another. So even if the Shari‘a is enforced by state
power, it does not mean that sovereignty in it belongs to God; as we have seen,
the Shari‘a itself is a man-made historic construct, hence human beings are
constantly playing with, changing and reinterpreting this sovereignty.
Sovereignty belongs to God in cosmic terms, but when it comes down to
earth sovereignty it belongs to those who can make earthly decisions. The trust
of responsibility and accountability for earthly decision belongs to all human-
ity. All decisions of state are in the hands of human beings, therefore actual
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sovereignty in the conduct of human affairs belongs to the people. Otherwise

the Qur’an would not insist that believers conduct their political affairs
through mutual consultation. It is the process of consultation itself, right across
the board involving every single citizen, that confers legitimacy on political
leaders, who are required to be accepted by all, and validates political decisions
which are binding on all. In the Qur’anic framework, the head of state is not
a deputy of God; he cannot be, as he does not have the attributes of God.
Rather, he is a representative of the people who have chosen him; and, like
everyone else, he is responsible to God for his actions, including the exercise
of authority. All, the ruler and the ruled, have the same rights and responsibili-
ties and are subject to the same law. The Prophet himself did not claim any
rights beyond those which other Muslims had. In the actual working of the
state organisation, of which he was founder and head, there was nothing to
distinguish him from others. He lived in the simplest way possible, partici-
pated fully in community work, digging ditches with his soldiers and working
on building sites with other labourers, and never claimed any superiority on
account of being a ruler. Moreover, while some aspects of a country’s law may
be based on, or draw from, Divine injunctions, not all law is Divine. God does
not legislate about urban planning, or what portion of the national wealth
should be spent on education and research and development, or the use of
communication technologies, or how we should drive. The Prophet did not
declare that the Qur’an was his constitution, but framed the Constitution of
Medina through a process of consultation, involving negotiations, contested
arguments and the inclusion of both Muslims and non-Muslims. Laws are
dynamic, they change according to context, circumstances and changing reali-
ties; and since they regulate society, society itself has the right to participate
and have its say in framing laws. The supremacy of the law and public consulta-
tion in making new laws and deciding important public affairs were the cor-
nerstones of the Prophet’s political leadership in Medina. The city state of
Medina recognised no superiority based on heredity, class, social status, politi-
cal position or rank, or indeed any distinction between master and slave: it
was a democracy beyond that envisaged in ancient Athens.
In the framework of the Qur’an, the ruler and the ruled are bound by a
social contract: the ruler must uphold justice, consult the people on policy,
follow not his personal desires but the interests of the citizens and the dictates
of the law; and the ruled must obey and follow the leadership of the ruler. But
when the rulers cease to be servants of the people, they cease to deserve to
remain in authority, and must relinquish power when asked to do so by the
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people. The Prophet’s immediate successor, Abu Bakr, made this clear in his
inauguration speech: ‘You have elected me as your leader, but I claim no supe-
riority over you. The strongest among you shall be weakest with me until I get
the rights of others from him, and the weakest amongst you shall be the stron-
gest with me until I get all his rights…Obey me as long as I obey God and His
Messenger. In case I disobey God and His Messenger, I have no right to obedi-
ence from you’ [11].
The obligation to ‘obey God and His Messenger’ applies equally to ‘the
people’. The Qur’an warns that the majority view may not always be correct;
and crowds, led by emotion, fear or moral panic, do not posses much wisdom.
The Qur’an, therefore, deprecates the majority for following their whims and
conjectures (6:116), lacking knowledge and understanding (7:187; 49:4;
5:103), being ungrateful (7:17; 12:38), and sometimes transgressing the rights
of one another (38:24). This is why God asks the Prophet to judge between
people ‘according to what God has sent down. Do not follow their whims, and
take good care that they do not tempt you away from any of what God has sent
down to you’ (5:49). The guiding principles for ‘the people’ have to be the
moral injunctions of the Qur’an; and the demands of the public themselves
have to be just, ethical and rational. In the battle for ideas, policies and conduct
of public affairs, history has shown, ‘many a small party has triumphed over a
large party’ (2:249). So minority opinion cannot be simply swept away. The
voices of the minorities—ethnic communities, religious communities, intel-
lectual groups, dissenting concerns—have to be given due respect, due consul-
tation and due space in public affairs.
All this places a huge responsibility on Muslim people. Muslims as individu-
als and collectives have to ensure that they behave according to the principles
of morality, justice and equity laid down in the Qur’an. They have to conduct
their affairs on the basis of mutual consultation. They have to select their lead-
ers through a transparent and open process of debate and discussion, in which
all participate equally and minority voices are not drowned. They have to
ensure that their leaders pursue just policies, uphold the law, treat everyone,
including themselves, equally before the law and frame policies by full consul-
tation with the people. There must also be a mechanism for peacefully taking
power away from leaders who behave otherwise. Finally, it is the responsibility
of the people as well as their leaders to promote social justice, equity, distribu-
tion of wealth, eradication of poverty, rule of the law, and work both within
and across communities for peace and prosperity.
This makes Muslims, by definition, political creatures of the most assertive
type. Politics according to the Qur’an, I would suggest, is about controlling
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and managing power to produce participatory governance and deliver policy

through consultation, without harming society and without disobeying the
commands of God. This, I would argue, cannot be accomplished by harking
back to some perverted notion of Caliphate, which was in truth nothing but
an imperialist monarchy, or recreating a romanticised, utopian ‘Islamic state’
ruled by the Mullahs. The goals of Muslim politics are best achieved by build-
ing a thriving civic society where participation and accountability are taken
for granted, freedoms and rights are ensured, and bridges are constantly built
between majority and minority communities, people and their leaders to pro-
mote trust and unity [12]. In the end, the final ‘Judgement is for God alone:
He tells the truth, and He is the best of judges’ (6:57).
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44
POLYGAMY AND DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
One of the longer chapters of the Qur’an, sura 4, carries the title ‘The Women’.
It makes a number of references, as the title suggests, to women and issues of
gender relations. It also contains what is seen by many commentators as one
of the most problematic verses in the Qur’an, 4:34, about disciplining a dis-
obedient wife. There are also verses in this chapter that have widely been used
to justify polygamy. Given the undeniable existence of domestic violence in
Muslim communities, and the prevalence of polygamy in many places like
Saudi Arabia and Nigeria, it is necessary, I think, to look at these verses closely
for new and alternative interpretations. The Qur’an treats both polygamy and
domestic abuse in what appears to be a conflicting way; but the contradictory
logic of the Qur’an, as I argued earlier, has a specific creative or transformative
purpose.
Polygamy is referred to right at the beginning of the Sura al Nisa, The
Women. It starts by reminding us that men and women were created from a
single soul, emphasises the importance of ‘the ties of kinship’, and urges the
believers not to exploit orphans and consume their property. Then, we read in
4:3: ‘If you fear that you cannot do justice to orphans, then marry from among
[orphaned] women such as you like, two, three, four. But if you fear you will
not be fair [to your wives], then [marry] only one; that is the safest course.’
Conventionally, this verse has been seen as giving permission for polygamy.
The first thing to note is that the verse has a strong context. It is talking spe-
cifically about orphans. The Prophet had been involved in two battles with his
enemies, the Quraysh; many Muslims had been killed, and as a consequence
there were many orphans in Medina. These orphans were not being treated
305
well. The Prophet was repeatedly being approached regarding young orphan
women, as is made clear later in the sura: ‘They ask you [oh Muhammad] con-
cerning women. Say: God gives you His decision concerning them, and what
is being recited to you in the Book concerning orphan women to whom you
do not give their due, but you would rather marry them, and [also concerning
younger] and weaker children’ (4:127). So, it seems that Muslims in Medina
were quite determined to marry young orphan women. We should also remem-
ber that this was already a highly polygamous society, where men not only had
but were expected to have scores of wives. The ‘permission’ to marry these
women is both a product of the general conditions in Medina as well as the
insistence of some to be allowed to marry orphan women.
But there is a contradiction. The ‘permission’ has a condition. The Muslims
of Medina are allowed to marry up to four orphan women with the require-
ment that they do justice amongst the co-wives. First, the Qur’an puts the
responsibility for this justice on the individual believer: ‘if you fear’ that you
cannot be just to all four of your wives, then stick to monogamy which is ‘the
safest course’. Then, further on in the sura, it states categorically: ‘You shall
never be able to do justice among women, no matter how much you desire to
do so’ (4:129). The contradiction here is meant to be creative: the believers are
asked to reflect on their desire for multiple wives and the demands of justice
and to resolve the contradiction by reflection. The goal of the exercise is a
transformation: to move a polygamous society to a monogamous one. This is
the Qur’an’s way of banning polygamy. Instead of an outright ban, the Qur’an
seeks a gradual change, based on thought and reflection.
The traditional interpretation of these verses, as one would expect, has been
somewhat different. Classical jurists saw the ‘permission’ as legally binding and
left the all-important issue of justice to the conscience of the individual. That,
I would argue, was a fundamental error. It would be more reasonable to assume
that if something is humanly impossible then it is bound to be violated. As
such, the only logical conclusion would be that polygamy is not permitted.
The function of the contradiction in these verses is to invoke thought amongst
the believers on an issue of justice between genders, and to focus on the moral
ideal towards which the society as a whole should move.
The moral ideal is also the focal point of the famous ‘beating’ verse in chap-
ter 3. And, here too, we have a contradiction. The verse in question, 3:34, has
been the subject of great controversy and has been debated endlessly. It has
caused a lot of problems, even for the best scholars. As translated by Haleem,
it reads: ‘Husbands should take good care of their wives with [the bounties]
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God has given to some more than others and with what they spend out of
their own money. Righteous wives are devout and guard what God would
have them guard in their husband’s absence. If you fear high-handedness from
your wives, remind them of [the teachings of God], then ignore them when
you go to bed, then hit them.’ In a couple of footnotes, Haleem explains that
the verb he has translated as ‘high-handedness’ (nashaza) means a sense of
superiority; and that the context of the verse suggests that a husband is
allowed to hit his wife once!
Even once is too much. For if the Qur’an allows the believing men to hit
the believing women, then it is sanctioning domestic violence. Most commen-
tators, past and present, have expressed a moral unease about this verse and
have resisted interpreting it as a general sanction. On the whole, traditional
jurists went out of their way to emphasise that the term used here for hitting
(dharaba) has only a symbolic significance and does not refer to physical beat-
ing. If it had to be carried out, it should be done with a ‘folded handkerchief ’,
as Razi suggests, or, as al-Tabari recommends, with ‘a toothbrush or some
such thing’.
But even as a symbolic act it is morally reprehensible; a point the Prophet
was keen to demonstrate. There is nothing he disliked more, he stressed, than
‘seeing a quick-tempered man beat his wife in a fit of anger’. What did he do
when he had difficulties with his wives? Did he engage in a bit of symbolic
battering? Nothing could be further from the truth.
So, what exactly is going on here? To begin with, 3:34 contradicts numer-
ous other verses in the Qur’an where gender equality is emphasised. For
example, 35:33 gives parity to men and women in every way: ‘For men and
women who are devoted to God—believing men and women, obedient men
and women, truthful men and women, steadfast men and women, humble
men and women, charitable men and women, fasting men and women, chaste
men and women, men and women who remember God often—God has pre-
pared forgiveness and a rich reward.’ The logic of this verse suggests that righ-
teous men are also devout and ‘guard what God would have them guard’; and,
if they fail to do so, or if they displease their wives by behaving or acting as
though they were superior, women have the equal right to ‘hit them’. Why
would a Sacred Text that insists on equality allow one gender but not the
other to act in specific ways?
The ‘beating’ verse also contradicts a number of verses about divorce, where
the believers are asked to release their wives in a ‘good way’ (2:229), not to
‘drive them out of their homes’ (65:1), but to provide them with ‘maintenance’
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or alimony (2:241). Throughout, as we argued in chapter 21, kindness and

affability along with mutual support are the ethos. It seems strange that when
a woman chooses to stay in a marriage she can be ‘hit’, but if she chooses to
separate she is showered with love and affection. A marriage in which God
sanctioned violence, common sense would dictate, is a prescription for divorce.
Contradiction also emerges when we examine what the Qur’an actually says
about marriage: it should be based on harmony (4:128), love and mercy
(30:21), and husbands and wives should protect each other (2:187). So in mar-
riage, as in divorce, the accent is on gentle and responsible behaviour.
I would suggest that the contradiction here deliberately directs our attention
towards a specific act; and its function is to generate moral apprehension of
that act. For a male-dominated society, where the superiority of men was taken
for granted, the verse can be seen to express the ‘natural’ order of things. For
such a society, moral unease is generated when this verse is compared and con-
trasted with what the Qur’an is saying elsewhere, its all-embracing emphasis
on gender equality. As in the case of polygamy, the contradiction here forces
the believers to transcend their behaviour by thinking about it. The resolution
of the contradictions involves a moral choice and abandonment of certain
outlooks and behaviour. Like polygamy, misogyny was the dominant norm in
pre-Islamic Arabia, and extreme domestic violence was not uncommon. The
Qur’an bans both: one by introducing an impossible condition, the other by
reducing it to a mere symbol and presenting it as contradictory behaviour. The
moral goal is to move towards a society totally free from both polygamy and
misogyny and their expression through domestic violence.
But the contradiction itself may be more apparent than real. The term dhar-
aba is a common Arabic root-word with a large number of possible meanings.
It can be translated as beat, hit, strike, scourge, chastise, flog, make an example
of, spank, pet, tap, to go away, strike out on a journey or even seduce. It is used
in a number of different ways in the Qur’an itself. So why should dharaba be
seen simply as hitting or beating? Given the general tenor of sura 4, where
women’s rights are repeatedly emphasised, injustice and oppression of women
are denounced, and believers are urged to be kind to each other, would it not
make logical sense to interpret, and translate, 4:34 in favour of women? It is
interesting to note that despite their moral unease, the conventional commen-
tators, classical and modern, saw 4:34 only in terms of beating [13]. Maybe
this was because all of them, up until recently, were exclusively male. So it has
taken a female translator to come up with a viable alternative reading. Laleh
Bakhtier translates 4:34 as follows:
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Men are supporters of wives

because God has given some of them
an advantage over others and because they spent
of their wealth.
So the ones in accord with morality
are the ones who are morally obligated
and the ones who guard the unseen
of what God has kept safe.
And those whose resistance you fear,
then admonish them and abandon them in
their sleeping places
and go away from them. [14]
The Bakhtier translation has two other features worth noting. She empha-
sises the present tense of the verse, suggesting that the verse is describing the
ground reality of the Prophet’s Medina. The word she translates as ‘supporters’,
qawwam, has caused as much controversy as dharaba. Pickthall, for example,
says ‘men are in charge of women’; according to Yusuf Ali, ‘men are protectors
and maintainers of women’; Asad says ‘men shall take full care of women’; and
still other translators have men as managers of women. This particular under-
standing of the verse has led to the justification of numerous patriarchal traits.
Men, many classical scholars argued, were the mediators of the word of God.
It was their job to discipline and educate women in the ways of God. As long
as Islamic law was not being violated, it was the duty of a wife to be obedient
to her husband. Indeed, this obedience was given a sacred dimension by clas-
sical scholars like al-Tabari and is emphasised by modern commentators like
Mawdudi. By obeying their men, the inheritors of the mantle of the Prophet,
women were in fact obeying God. This twisted logic was not limited to obedi-
ence within the household. It was extended to the society at large: women
needed a man (mahram) as their guardian when they went out, women could
not attend funerals or grave sites, women could not represent themselves in
public, women could not be leaders of the community, and a woman could
not even worship God by fasting without the permission of her husband
because her husband might want to have sex with her during the day! Without
doubt, I think, these absurd and obnoxious rules inculcate a cultural arena
conducive to rampant domestic violence and violence against women in con-
servative Muslim societies. And both, the interpretation of the verse and the
anti-women rules and legislation based on it, I would suggest, defy the basic
logic and spirit of the Qur’an.
309
Men were indeed ‘the protectors and maintainers of women’ in the tribal
and patriarchal society addressed and described by the Qur’an. It is meant as
a statement of fact, not a moral goal to be pursued by the society as a whole.
A proper interpretation of the verse is provided by the life of Prophet Muham-
mad himself. The situation in his household was quite the opposite: as long as
she was alive, Khadijah, his first wife, was the manager of the Prophet’s house-
hold. He worked for her in the business that she ran. She managed the finances,
gave him advice and looked after him when he was distressed—she was the
qawwam; just as the Queen of Sheeba, according to the Qur’an, was the qaw-
wam of Yemen (27:29–35). In the Prophet’s Medina, women played a very
active part in the social and political life of the community. And after his death,
the Prophet’s wives became jurists and teachers.
The interpretation of qawwam has led many classical and modern commen-
tators into highly dubious and dangerous territory. Arguments have been pre-
sented about various inabilities and incapabilities of women. Men are supposed
to be more mature, are natural leaders and endowed with superior mental capa-
bilities. Reading some of these comments and commentaries, I must admit,
fills me with shame. To posit that women should be obedient servants of their
men is to perform immense violence to the spirit of the Qur’an. I find the very
idea morally repugnant.
The truth is that qawwam simply means ‘breadwinner’ or ‘those who provide
a means of support or livelihood’. It’s a gender neutral term. But centuries of
classical and modern exegesis has failed to point this out. It is left to contem-
porary feminist commentators, such as Asma Barlas [15], Amina Wadud [16]
and Leila Ahmed [17], to demonstrate this. However the word is translated,
it does not imply subordination of women or superiority of men. That would
violate the more general and categorical principle of the Qur’an: ‘believers,
men and women, support each other’ (9:71). The dominant framework within
which any problematic verse of the Qur’an has to be read is that of eternal
equality: equality before God and equality in responsibility on earthly matters.
Which brings us to yet another meaning of qawwam. Elsewhere in the Qur’an
qawwam is used to describe human behaviour towards God. Both the wife of
Pharaoh and Mary sought the protection of God and accepted His truth. They
were amongst the qanitin: those who showed obedience to God and were ‘truly
devout’ (66:12).
Women’s readings are obviously necessary to balance our interpretations of
the meaning of the Qur’an. There is no genuine debate when half the popula-
tion is silenced. Though there is a conundrum here: there is a saying of the
310
Prophet which argues that religion lies beneath one’s mother’s feet. In Muslim
society this is undoubtedly true. I am not alone in having my first encounters
with the Qur’an thanks to the efforts of my mother. Over the centuries women,
as well as men, have accepted the customs and tradition derived from male
readings of the Qur’an. Women have internalised these traditions willingly,
not as passive acceptance of second-class status but as positive assignment to
domesticity. And without women treating sons differently from their daugh-
ters, misogyny cannot persist in any land. This is not to blame women for their
own victimisation. It is, however, to argue that for women, just as for men,
mere reading is not enough. It is only critical engagement with words and their
meanings that can take a society forward in a balanced and inclusive way.
The final point must be to acknowledge that domestic violence and subor-
dination of women are not especially Muslim or Islamic issues, however much
attempts are made to present it as such. Domestic violence exists in every soci-
ety, sadly. It is not confined to any specific group or class. It has been evidenced
among the highest and the lowest, the well educated as well as the disadvan-
taged. Neither are patriarchy and misogyny particularly Muslim traits. Indeed,
in Judaism and Christianity, where women were viewed as chattels of their
father and then their husband, these attitudes were fostered and far more
overtly derived from religion. ‘To love, honour and obey’ was the basis of the
marriage contract solemnised before God as a sacrament of the Church for
Christian women, nor has the wording entirely disappeared. Social attitudes,
however, have moved on. There has been a moral rebalancing—though it has
by no means eradicated domestic violence. Muslims have every reason to learn
from this and return with fresh thoughts to their own basic text where gender
equality, kindness, mutuality and affability are to be found as guiding princi-
ples. However, if immense moral progress in attitudes accompanied by pro-
found social change in practice do not eliminate domestic violence, there is
reason to think more critically about its origins. In chapter 21 the discussion
of marriage and divorce began with the seemingly anomalous verses relating
to intoxication. The connecting principle, I argued, was control of one’s pas-
sions as the means to maintain both emotional balance and sustain God con-
sciousness. Passion, the capacity to become intoxicated with excess, is an aspect
of human nature. Moral progress is not merely a matter of ideas, of critical
enlightenment but also of disciplining our passions, taming the excesses to
which human nature is prone, to a higher purpose. The training is to awaken
and be guided by God consciousness. Both men and women need to be obe-
dient—but only to God.
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SEX AND SOCIETY
The Qur’an portrays sex as natural and wholesome. It is not something shame-
ful, mysterious or perplexing but only another, amongst many, signs of God.
Far from feeling guilty about our sexual desires, we should share our sexual
passion in a deep and satisfying way and see it as a pleasure given to us by God
to be enjoyed. ‘Another of His signs’, we read in 30:21, ‘is that He created
spouses from among yourselves for you to live with in tranquillity: He ordained
love and kindness between you.’ Thus, a life of peace and serenity requires a
deep and abiding relationship based on intimacy and mutual affection.
But sex is not just an outer sign of God. It is also an inner sign that emanates
from within us. It is a sign ‘in your own nature’ (45:3) that the Qur’an alludes
to a number of times: ‘On earth there are signs for those of sure faith—and in
yourselves too, do you not see?’ (51:20–21). Sex is thus an integral part of our
fitra, ‘the natural disposition God instilled in mankind’ (30:30), our innate
awareness of our origin as the purposeful creation of God.
This is precisely why sex is nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about.
During the Prophet’s time, Muslims in Medina believed that sex was forbidden
during the month of Ramadan, even at night when eating and drinking is
allowed. However, not everyone could resist the temptation. They felt guilty
and admitted to the Prophet that they had spoiled their fast by having sexual
relations during Ramadan. The incident is mentioned in 2:187: ‘You [believ-
ers] are permitted to lie with your wives during the night of the fast: they are
your garments and you are their garments. God was aware that you were
betraying yourselves, so He turned to you in mercy and pardoned you: now
you can lie with them—seek what God has ordained for you.’ So sex is a gift
313
of God to be enjoyed, even in the austere month of Ramadan, which suggests

that it adds to the spiritual benefit of worship.
A few verses later in the same sura we read: ‘your wives are your tilth, so
approach your tilth as you desire, and send [good deeds] before you for your
souls’ (2:223). We have discussed this verse and the significance of the meta-
phor of ‘field’ or ‘tilth’ in chapter 21. However we look at this verse, it is clear
that the idea of gardening is being conveyed. Hence, the feminist scholar Laleh
Bakhtiar translates the verse as ‘your wives are a place of cultivation for you’.
Cultivation requires preparing the ground—digging up soil, spreading the
seeds, watering the seedlings, nursing the plants, tackling weeds and pests—so
the ‘field’ can bear fruit. The advice to ‘send’ something good beforehand, or
as Tarif Khalidi puts it, ‘lay up good works for yourselves’, suggests that the
metaphor is pointing towards foreplay. Indeed, this is how the last part of the
verse has been interpreted by most classical scholars. The Prophet too recom-
mended foreplay and counselled men not to fall on their wives like animals,
but be gentle and send ‘a messenger’, kisses and caresses, prior to the sexual act.
The verse, I think, is also acknowledging the fact that female sexuality requires
some attention and that the sexual satisfaction of wives is just as important as
that of the husbands. If sex is an innate part of human nature, fitra, then it is
equally important for both men and women. It is worth pointing out that in
history women actually sued their husbands in Shari‘a courts for the failure to
provide sexual satisfaction, and had their claims upheld!
Sexual morality in the Qur’an is ultimately related to the happiness and
spiritual welfare of people, both as individuals and communities. Hence, sexu-
ality is not presented in opposition to spirituality, but as a part of God’s grace
that leads to spirituality. The Qur’an urges believers to take a spouse as soon
as they are able to: ‘marry those amongst you who are single’ (24:32). But there
are some single women who are out of bounds: ‘Do not marry women that
your fathers married … that is indeed a shameful thing to do, loathsome and
leading to evil. You are forbidden to take as wives your mothers, daughters,
sisters, paternal and maternal aunts, the daughters of brothers and sisters, your
milk-mothers and your milk-sisters, your wives’ mothers, the stepdaughters in
your care—those born of women with whom you have consummated marriage
… wives of your begotten sons, two sisters simultaneously … Other women are
lawful to you so long as you seek them in marriage, with gifts of your property,
looking for wedlock rather than fornication’ (4:22–4). It is worth noting that
‘other women’ need not necessarily be virgins; the Qur’an does not valorise
female virginity. We see from the example of the Prophet’s own marriages that
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divorced and widowed women are just as desirable marriage partners as virgins.
The Prophet’s first marriage was to Khadijah, who was much older than him,
which suggests that younger men can—or should it be should, given that it is
Sunna, the example of the Prophet?—marry older women and older women
can marry younger men, with no sexual hang-ups.
Sex is good; but not all sex leads to human happiness and welfare. So those
who are ‘unable to marry’ are advised to ‘keep chaste until God gives them
enough out of His bounty’ (24:33). The Qur’an’s insistence on chastity is
aimed at preventing complications, unhappiness and spiritual despair. Chastity
is maintained by avoiding certain kinds of sex, ‘by not taking lovers or secret
mistresses’ (5:5), not going ‘anywhere near adultery’ (17:32), and by staying
‘well away from committing obscenities’ (6:151).
Chastity in the Qur’an is not a passive but an active concept. It is the coun-
terpart of modesty as an interior condition produced by a commitment to
values. Both modesty and chastity apply equally to men and women, to indi-
viduals as well as society. Chastity is a function of conduct, the sexual choices
we make, and not of sexual identity, class, faith or human nature. One con-
sciously and actively seeks to avoid certain actions as an individual, and society,
as a whole, provides a platform which enables individuals to remain chaste. So
while the Qur’an suggests that believers ‘who guard their chastity except with
their spouses’ (23:5–6) will be happy and prosperous, it also bans prostitution,
pornography and sexual provocation. ‘Do not force girls into prostitution so
that you may seek the display of worldly life’, we read in 24:33. In 24:19, the
Sacred Text asks the believer not to ‘spread fahisha’, a term with different shades
of meaning, including lewdness, indecency and pornography (and, in some
Muslim circles, homosexuality, which we will discuss in the next chapter).
It is to prevent fahisha that the Qur’an has a special take on the human body.
The body per se is not something indecent. Just as sex is an innate part of our
natural disposition, so is the body a natural part of our physical make-up. Just
as sex is good and wholesome within certain boundaries, so the sexed body can
only be displayed to certain individuals. Neither sex nor the sexed body can
be used for public consumption. The body, as a site of desire and eroticism,
should be private: ‘righteous wives are devout and guard what God would have
them guard in their husband’s absence’ (4:34). In 24:31 we find an indication
of who is to be considered as part of one’s private domain: ‘And let them not
display their charms except to their husbands, their husband’s fathers, their
sons, their husband’s sons, their brothers, their brother’s son, their sister’s son,
their womenfolk, their slaves, such men as attend them who have no sexual
315
desire, or children who are not yet aware of women’s nakedness, they should
not stamp their feet so as to draw attention to any hidden charms’ (24:31). All
others are located in the public domain where chastity is preserved by lowering
one’s gaze (24:30).
But it is not just the women who need to lower their gaze and guard their
bodies. Men too have to keep their privates private. In the Prophet’s Arabia,
where temperatures could easily reach 40 degrees centigrade, it was not unusual
for men to sleep naked or relax in their birthday suits. Referring to them, the
Qur’an suggests that people should not barge into the rooms of those who are
sleeping or resting, but ask their ‘permission to come in at three times of day:
before the dawn prayer; when you lay your garments aside in midday heat; and
after the evening prayer. These are your three times of undress’ (24:58).
Thus, the emphasis is not just on the public display of the female body. But
the body per se, male and female, has to be kept away from public gaze. How-
ever, preserving chastity in public does not mean that men and women should
be strictly segregated, or that women should be covered in shrouds to protect
them from the eyes of lustful men. The gaze itself is the real veil: and both men
and women must veil themselves by averting their gaze. However, classical
commentators, as is so often the case, concentrated on only one side of the
equation and took the verse to mean that ‘the gaze was the “messenger of for-
nication”’. As Asma Barlas argues in ‘Believing Women’ in Islam, they
sought to mitigate it not as the Qur’an does, by counselling modesty for both men and
women, but by segregating and veiling women in order to protect men’s sexual virtue.
The Qur’an, however, rules out both male and female scopic activity. Moreover, its
injunction to cast down one’s eyes establishes that people must, in fact, be free to look
upon one another publicly. If men and women were segregated, or if women’s faces
were veiled, it would not be necessary to cast down one’s eyes, and thus this ruling of
the Qur’an would be unnecessary. If anything, therefore, the Qur’an’s ruling establishes
that women can freely enter public arenas, undermining the claim of Muslim conserva-
tives that Islam mandates secluding and segregating women [18].
It should be noted that seclusion of women and their veiling were prevalent
cultural practices of the Greek and Persian worlds long before the spread of
Islam to these regions. These customs and cultural norms were read into the
Qur’an to become the standard interpretation of Qur’anic exegesis in history.
In contemporary times, the gaze plays a much broader role than simply ogling
at the opposite sex. In a world where sex has been turned into a global commod-
ity, and the natural desires of human beings have been commercialised, lowering
one’s gaze becomes a constant and monumental exercise. The sexed body is
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everywhere: in advertisements, on television and films, specialised magazines,

the catwalk and a hundred other places. Obsession with sex is the norm. Body
form, and the means to heighten the sexual display of the body, is a worldwide
multi-billion industry which now sells the concept to children as much as
adults. Yet this manufactured desire, this ‘love of desirable things made alluring
for men’ (3:14), and, one might say, for women, is not about satisfying normal
sensual needs. It cannot be, since the desire is insatiable, constant and perpetual.
Rather, it is a desperate attempt to escape the pain of spiritual void. The gaze
thus acquires a particular spiritual significance in our time. Its function is to
keep the believers spiritually chaste, away from the paraphernalia and perver-
sion, the pain and perturbations of a sex-obsessed society.
Chastity is also linked to another major obsession of our time: malicious
gossip, ‘tittle tattle’, paranoid fixation with the sex lives of ‘celebrities’, and who
is ‘dumping’ or ‘dating’ whom. In most cases, these are unsubstantiated
rumours designed to sell newspapers, gossip magazines and increase the ratings
of television shows. They also serve to occupy pitifully vacuous lives.
During the period when the Qur’an was being revealed, a rumour emerged
in Medina. It was the Muslims themselves who started the gossip: ‘It was a
group from among you that concocted the lie’ (24:11). Given the nature of
gossip it spread quickly and the Muslims as a whole began to take it seriously.
The Qur’an admonishes those who started the rumour: ‘when you took it up
with your tongues, and spoke with your mouth things you did not know [to
be true], you thought it was trivial but to God it was very serious’ (24:15).
Those who paid attention to the chitchat are also rebuked in strong terms:
‘When you heard the lie, why did you not say, “We should not repeat this—
God forbid!—it is a monstrous slander”?’ (24:16).
There are a number of restrictions being laid here. First, rumours about the
sex lives of others should not be spread; those who engage in such ‘tittle tattle’
will be charged with the sin they have earned, and the one ‘who took the great-
est part in it will have painful punishment’ (24:11). (We can surmise that gos-
sip columnists are doomed!) The sex lives of others are just that: sex lives of
others. They concern neither you nor me. They are private affairs that are best
kept private and not subjected to slanderous gossip. Second, on hearing such
rumours, the believers have a particular duty: ‘When you heard the lie, why
did believing men and women not think well of their own people and declare,
“This is obviously a lie”?’ (24:12). One’s duty is to think good of the people
who are being maligned and protect their honour and privacy. Third, gossip
should not be believed without concrete evidence—when, in fact, it ceases to
317
be mere gossip: ‘And why did the accusers not bring four witnesses to it? If
they cannot produce such witnesses they are liars in God’s eyes’ (24:12–13).
Finding four witnesses for sexual misdemeanours is by no means easy: the cri-
teria for evidence are deliberately weighted on the side of the victim. Ulti-
mately, what should be private remains private, and the chaste are not
maliciously maligned.
The ‘concocted lie’ in question was about Aisha, the youngest wife of the
Prophet. While travelling with a caravan on a journey, she dropped a necklace.
When she went back to retrieve the jewellery, she was left behind and became
separated from the caravan. Eventually, she was found by a young man who
escorted her back to Medina. The rumour suggested that something unlawful
happened between them. A long passage in the first part of sura 24, ‘Light’, is
devoted to this incident, as well as issues of privacy, gossip, slander and sexual
behaviour.
When it comes to accusations of sexual misconduct, the Qur’an takes the
side of the accused. ‘Those who accuse honourable but unwary believing
women’, we read in 24:23, ‘are rejected by God.’ In matters of chastity, the
woman’s word is law; when she swears by God, the matter ends: ‘As for those
who accuse their own wives of adultery, but have no other witness, let each one
four times call God to witness that he is telling the truth, and, the fifth time,
call God to reject him if he is lying; punishment shall be averted from his wife
if she in turn four times calls God to witness that her husband is lying and, the
fifth time, calls God to reject her if he is telling the truth’ (24:6–9). In other
words, believe the wife and not the husband.
The Qur’an’s treatment of adultery, fornication and ‘lewd acts’ in public
(which conservatives would argue include what are referred to in some circles
as ‘PDAs’: public displays of affection) follows the contradictory logic we dis-
cussed in the case of polygamy. In all cases, four eyewitnesses are required to
establish guilt: ‘if any of your women commit a lewd act, call four witnesses
from among you’ (4:15). The punishment appears quite severe: ‘strike the adul-
teress and adulterer one hundred times. Do not let compassion for them keep
you from carrying out God’s law … and ensure that a group of believers wit-
nesses the punishment’ (24:2). Women accused of ‘lewd acts’ are to be kept ‘at
home until death comes to them or until God shows them another way’ (4:15);
in case of men, ‘punish them both; and if they repent and mend their ways,
leave them alone’ (4:16).
Given that the evidence required to substantiate a charge of adultery, for-
nication or ‘lewd act’—collectively known as zina—is no small matter, the
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logic of these verses seems to be that the charges could never be proven. Only
a total imbecile would perform any of these acts in the full and glaring view of
four witnesses. Given that the punishment for bearing false witness is almost
as high as the actual crime, it would require a brave witness to come forward:
‘As for those who accuse chaste women of fornication, and then fail to provide
four witnesses, strike them eighty times, and reject their testimony ever after:
they are lawbreakers, except those who repent later and make amends’
(24:2–5). So the punishment is symbolic rather than an actual, physical pen-
alty: it is meant to serve simply as a deterrent. Indeed, classical jurists and
judges accepted the punishment in principle but, in reality, left cases of illicit
sex unpunished, leaving the matter in the hands of God.
There is another reason to assume that the punishment is purely symbolic.
The word used for ‘strike’, jalada, as Abdel Haleem explains in a footnote,
‘means “hit the skin” with hand or anything else. There are reports that people
used shoes, clothes, etc.’ [19]. In Arab culture, throwing shoes is the ultimate
demonstration of public disgrace, as President George W. Bush was to learn.
Thus, this punishment has nothing to do with Taliban-style lashing with whips,
which to my mind is an indication of the pathological, sadistic psychology of
those who preside over such affairs. And it has absolutely nothing to do with
the barbaric practice of stoning. In fact, the function of the punishment is to
‘name and shame’ the individual concerned: this is why it is a public exercise.
It is in the process of ‘naming and shaming’ that the believers are asked to ‘not
let compassion for them keep you from carrying out God’s law’. The final goal
is actually not to punish at all, but to produce transformative behaviour that
leads to repentance.
Now repentance is a very personal and private affair between God and the
individual concerned. We have no real way of judging repentance; all we can
do is take the words of the accused at face value. Neither do we have any means
of knowing when ‘God shows them another way’ or what that way could be-
although we can guess. The truth can only be judged by God, who is ‘always
ready to accept repentance’ (4:16). So, the advice to leave the transgressors
alone ‘if they repent and mend their ways’ is really the driving factor in dealing
with issues of illicit sex.
The overall message for the believers is to keep within the boundaries of
decency and morality. ‘Those who pray humbly, who shun idle talk, who pay
the proscribed alms, who guard their chastity’ are ‘not to blame, but anyone
who seeks more than this is exceeding the limits’ (23:2–7). Keep your desires
under wraps, the advice goes; and do not let your ‘desires exceed this limit’
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(70:31). But, of course, given human nature and the conditions of the modern
world, not everyone will follow the desired course. Temptation is always pres-
ent. Both men and women can have illicit desires. The public space will often
be corrupted. The believers are thus asked to keep away from those who cor-
rupt the moral fibre of society: ‘Corrupt women are for corrupt men, and cor-
rupt men are for corrupt women; good women are for good men and good
men are for good women’ (24:26).
If sexual ethics in the Qur’an aim to promote contentment and spiritual wel-
fare, as I have argued, why is sex in Muslim societies, one may legitimately ask,
the source of so much injustice and unhappiness? Why is the female body seen
as a site of female shame and male honour? How has the barbaric practice of
female circumcision, an inheritance from pre-Islamic cultures, survived? The
simple answer to these questions is that such notions and practices have nothing
to do with the Qur’an but everything to do with cultural traditions, customs
and practices. They are not exclusively Arab or non-Arab; they are derived from
and are part of many cultures. As time-honoured practices and ways of thinking
and operating in the world, they were inveigled into the Qur’anic framework,
retained and newly re-justified with the rubric of Islam; some even became part
of the Sharia as it evolved through the centuries and exists today [20].
Women in Muslim societies face the greatest injustice in relation to rape.
Under certain Shari‘a legislation, such as the Hudud Ordinance of Pakistan
[21] or the Hudud Bill of the Malaysian State of Kelantan [22], zina, i.e. illicit
sex, and rape are seen as the same thing and fall under the same rules. Of
course, the two are quite distinct. Zina is consensual sex, and even though it
is out of wedlock, it may involve love and mutual affection. Rape is non-con-
sensual sex under force and duress: it is an aberration of power, violence and
humiliation. Only a perverted mind would see both as the same. Yet, under
Shari‘a legislation, the rules of zina are applied to rape; and the rape victim has
to bring four male witnesses of just character to prove the charge against her
attacker. The most frequent outcome is that the rape victim is doubly victim-
ised: not only has she been raped, but she is also accused of adultery or fornica-
tion and imprisoned! So the rules that were supposed to protect women from
slander are used to sanction state violence against them. Those who frame such
laws and apply them in the name of Islam are, I would argue, the real transgres-
sors, who ‘overstep His limits’ and ‘will be consigned by God to the Fire, and
there they will stay—a humiliating torment awaits them’ (4:14).
A community that strives to become a ‘community of the middle way’ treats
issues of sexual ethics as it treats other aspects of life: with modesty and mod-
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eration, tolerance and generosity, understanding and forgiveness. Abu Bakr,

father of Aisha, was the closest companion of the Prophet, and provided sup-
port to a relative named Mistah. When he heard that Mistah, an immigrant
from Mecca, had participated in spreading the ‘concocted lie’ against Aisha,
he swore he would never help this poor relative again. But the Qur’an advised
him otherwise: ‘those who have been graced with bounty and plenty should
not swear that they will [no longer] give to kinsmen, the poor, those who emi-
grated in God’s way: let them pardon and forgive. Do you not wish that God
should forgive you?’ (24:22). We should wish for others, this verse suggests,
what we desire for ourselves. Ultimately, the best we can do for those who stray
outside the limits of sexual ethics is to forgive. And we should pray that they,
like us, enjoy God’s grace to the full and have a happy and wonderful sex life.
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46
HOMOSEXUALITY
The term homosexuality does not occur in the Qur’an. But the Qur’an does
mention ‘men who have no need of women’. We are not explicitly told who
these men are, but we can guess: either they have no sexual desire at all or they
desire other men. And if such men are ‘mindful of God’ they could, in the
Hereafter, be in ‘Gardens and in bliss, rejoicing in their Lord’s gifts’ which
include, amongst other things, ‘devoted youths like hidden pearls’ (52:17–24).
Elsewhere we are told: ‘Everlasting youth will attend them—if you could see
them, you would think they are scattered pearls’ (76:19). There are two points
to note here. The positive way male beauty is portrayed; and the fact that no
negativity is attached to men who do not desire women.
It is in 24:31, which we considered in the previous chapter, that we come
across ‘men who have no sexual desire’ who can witness the ‘charms’ of women.
Clearly, men who have no sexual desires for women, and are thus treated like
close family members, can be elderly, impotent (although whether anyone
would actually advertise his impotence is open to question) or homosexuals.
Oblique references to homosexuality occur in a couple of other places in
the Qur’an. In 42:49–50, we read: ‘God has control of the heavens and the
earth; He creates whatsoever He will—He grants female offspring to whoever
He will, male to whoever He will, or both male and female, and He makes
whoever He will barren: He is knowing and all powerful.’ So a single offspring
can be ‘both male and female’, which suggest that a male could have a female
sexual orientation and a female could have a male sexual orientation; or, at
least, their sexuality is ambiguous. Gender ambiguous people, such as her-
maphrodites, were not unknown in the Arab society when the Qur’an was
being revealed.
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The other reference occurs in 24:60, which has been translated in rather
different ways. According to Abdel Haleem: ‘No blame will be attached to
elderly women who are not hoping for sex, if they take off their outer garments
without flaunting their charms, but it is preferable for them not to do this:
God is all hearing, all seeing.’ Yusuf Ali has ‘such elderly women as are past the
prospect of marriage’; and Muhammad Asad suggests it is ‘women advanced
in years, who no longer feel any sexual desires’. However the verse is translated,
the essential message being conveyed here is that these women are not going
to bear children and are not interested in sexual intercourse with men. The
women could have passed the natural child-bearing age, or they are so old that
they have no sexual desires, or they are mystic celibates—but the description
can apply equally to lesbian women.
What can we learn from these indirect references to homosexuality? We
note that the existence of non-heterosexuals is recognised and they are
described in a matter of fact way as though they are a natural creation of God.
But given that the references are so oblique, it is obvious that homosexuals are
not the main concern of the Qur’an: the Sacred Text focuses on heterosexuals
because they propagate and replicate the social order. Homosexuals exist, the
Qur’an seems to be saying, but they are a small minority, so don’t make too
much fuss about them. Concentrate on the sexual mores of the majority who
determine the future of society.
There is another point to consider. Given the Qur’an’s emphasis on diversity,
it seems strange to me that the Sacred Text would not recognise sexual diver-
sity. When we are asked, in 17:84, to ‘Say, “Everyone does things in their own
way, but your Lord is fully aware of who follows the best-guided path”’, should
we not include homosexuals in ‘everyone’? It seems that the Prophet Muham-
mad did. One reason the Qur’an mentions ‘men who are not attracted to
women’ is that such men existed in Medina during the time of the Prophet.
They lived outside the dominant patriarchal economy, moved freely amongst
the women, witnessing their ‘charm’. The Prophet accepted these men as citi-
zens of the diverse society that was Medina with the usual stipulation that they
should not break the ethical and moral codes of society.
Moreover, I think it is important for us as a religious community—indeed,
all religious communities, Muslim, Christian, Jewish—to ask whether homo-
sexuality is a natural disposition or a matter of choice. If one chooses to be gay
or lesbian, then it makes sense to argue that homosexuals can, or should,
change their sexual behaviour. But if homosexuality is a natural God-given
dispensation, part of the fitra or innate human nature of an individual, which
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HOMOSEXUALITY
I think the Qur’an implies, then the question of change in sexual orientation
does not arise. One cannot change one’s fitra. I tend to agree with Scott Siraj
al-Haqq Kugle, the author of the luminous study Homosexuality in Islam, who
argues that ‘some human beings simply are homosexuals by disposition rather
than by choice’. Science seems to confirm this assertion. Kugle writes:
There has always been a small minority of homosexual women and men in every human
community, though societies define them in different ways, languages have different
terms to describe them, and belief systems have different reactions to their presence.
Some societies accept them and some condemn them, but none has ever prevented
them from being present—whether openly or under suppression. What causes them
to be present is open to question. As a Muslim, I assert that they—like all natural
phenomena—are caused by Divine will, though biological process or early child-
hood experiences are important means by which they come into being. Whether the
“cause” is God’s creation, biological variation, or early childhood experience, homo-
sexuals have no rational choice in their internal disposition to be attracted to same-sex
mates [23].
It would be an unjust God who, after having given no choice to the indi-
viduals concerned, condemns them for being homosexuals. Indeed, such a
condemnation would go against all the overwhelming emphasis on justice and
equity that we find in the Qur’an.
But such arguments were not considered by classical and traditionalist schol-
ars, who insist that the Qur’an condemns homosexuality. The sole basis of out-
lawing homosexuality is 4:16: ‘if two men commit a lewd act, punish them both’
(4:16). But I find it difficult to see how this verse condemns homosexuality. In
the previous verse, 4:15, we read: ‘if any of your women commit a lewd act, call
four witnesses from among you, then, if they testify to their guilt, keep the
women at home till death comes to them or until God shows them another
way’. What could this ‘lewd act’ be? It could be any kind of sexual indiscretion
from adultery, fornication, prostitution to female or male homosexuality. The
fact that four witnesses are required suggests it is the act being performed in
public, or at least in the full view of four adults, that really makes it indecent.
The same word, fahisha, is used to describe the lewd nature of the acts, which
suggests that it is also something that happens in public, in full view of adult
witnesses. I would argue that it is the public gaze that is the issue here and not
necessarily the nature of the act itself. What is condemned is lewd public behav-
iour—whatever the sexual orientation of the parties involved.
Nevertheless, the term fahisha has come to designate homosexuality in Mus-
lim circles. So a great deal depends on how we understand this term, which
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can mean anything from gross indecency and transgression to gruesome deeds
and even atrocities. It is in the story of Prophet Lot, mentioned in a number
of places in the Qur’an, that the term is used most frequently. In 7:80–81, for
example, we read: ‘We sent Lot and he said to his people, “how can you prac-
tise this outrage? No one in the world has outdone you in this. You lust after
men rather than women. You transgress all bounds.”’ The word for transgres-
sion here is fahisha, which in classical commentaries is said to mean ‘sexually
entering males’. But there is a problem with this simplistic reading.
When we consider how the word fahisha is used elsewhere in the Qur’an, a
somewhat different picture emerges. Reading Kugle again:
In the verse that communicates Lot’s prohibition, al-fahishah comes in the definite
nominal form, “the transgression”, whereas the verse about adultery mentions fahishah
in the indefinite nominal form “transgression”. This suggests that transgression is a
general category including many different specific kinds of acts; one could speak of a
particular transgression in specifying an act or one could speak of transgression in
general to imply a whole range of acts that transgress the boundary of decency, righ-
teousness, or legality. Not every term mentioned as “transgression” would be equiva-
lent, morally or legally or punitively. In fact, the Qur’an often uses the term
“transgression” in the plural in the narrative sections about Lot and his conflict with
his community [24].
If we read Lot’s story, scattered as it is throughout the Qur’an, thematically,

we discover that it is not so much about homosexuality but a string of gross
sexual transgressions, including widespread promiscuity, paedophilia, bestial-
ity, the use of rape as a weapon of intimidation and power, and the sexual deni-
gration and abuse of guests. Lot’s lot were exceptionally stingy, greedy,
covetous, and wallowed in filth; they robbed travellers, humiliated strangers,
and exploited the needy. In 7:81, it is not only men that Lot’s people lust after.
They lust after male guests in order to humiliate and intimidate them, to use
rape as an instrument of power. The sexual acts in Lot’s story are acts of vio-
lence, above and over anything else. This is why God ‘showered upon them a
rain of destruction’ (7:84).
We should not confuse the story of Lot as it appears in the Qur’an with that
which appears in the Bible. Muslims have accepted and adopted the Biblical
view of homosexuality, both in history and contemporary times, instead of
engaging with the text of the Qur’an and thinking things out for themselves.
Lot also figures in ‘sayings’ of the Prophet that are used to justify condemna-
tion of homosexuality, criminalise it, and prescribe punishment for the homo-
sexual act: death by stoning. In fact, there is absolutely no evidence that the
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Prophet punished anyone for homosexuality. Most of the so-called Hadith

regarding homosexuality are at best not authentic, or worse, totally fabricated.
Sayings like ‘whosever you find doing the act of the people of Lot, kill the
active and passive participants’ or ‘the one practising the act of the people of
Lot, stone the one on the top and the one of the bottom, stone them both
together’ are not authentic: they have nothing to do with the Prophet and
everything to do with the prejudices of society. The evidence actually suggests
that the Prophet took homosexuals, cross-dressers and transgenders as part of
a natural landscape and paid little attention to them. There are no Hadith or
sayings of the Prophet in authentic collections, such as Sahih Bukhari [25],
denouncing homosexuals. Sahih Bukhari contains a couple of stories about
‘effeminate men’ who frequently visited the household of the Prophet and
talked and joked with his wives. These stories are mentioned largely because a
particular mukhannath, as they are known, upset the Prophet. During a con-
versation with Umm Salama, one of the Prophet’s wives, a mukhannath
described a woman of another tribe in a lurid manner. When the Prophet
heard the description, he banned this mukhannath from entering his house. It
is clear from the story that the Prophet was disturbed by the unethical descrip-
tion, the backbiting tittle-tattle, and not by the sexual orientation of the person
concerned. In the Prophet’s Medina, mukhannath, who are anatomically male
but display the gendered character of a female, had privileged access to and
mixed freely with women. They had a particular social role: bringing couples
together and singing and dancing during weddings. In India and Pakistan,
where they are known as hijras, they perform the same roles today.
It is quite clear to me that the widespread and rampant homophobia of
Muslim societies cannot be justified either on the basis of Qur’anic teachings
or the example of the Prophet Muhammad. On the contrary, the Qur’an por-
trays homosexuality as a natural disposition and the Sunna is exemplary in its
toleration of sexual orientation. The demonisation of homosexuality in Muslim
history is based largely on fabricated traditions and the unreconstituted preju-
dices harboured by most Muslim societies. In this case, as in so many others,
religion is used to support deep historic prejudices rather than reform and
enlighten them.
The story of Lot, however, is not altogether irrelevant to contemporary gay
culture. It is, after all, about extreme excess. While we are sexual beings, male
and female, the Qur’an tells us, we are not exclusively and solely sexual but also
moral agents in all spheres of human activity. Modesty is the counterbalance
to our sexual appetites, which should be fulfilled away from the public sphere.
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This applies equally to homosexuals, who like other believers are required to
be modest, ‘lower their gaze’, and keep private things private. Contemporary
gay and lesbian behaviour in Western societies, it seems to me, is anything but
modest.
The obsession of gay culture with lavishing attention on looks, clothes, cer-
tain kinds of pop music and promiscuity is far from innocent; it echoes the
excesses of Lot’s people; and it is being aped blindly in Muslim societies as
fashion. The commodification of homosexual lifestyle has more than indi-
vidual excess to answer for: it is a global economy, politics and ecology that
produce injustice and inequity within and between nations. The obsession of
gay culture with lavishing attention on looks, clothes, certain kinds of pop
music and promiscuity is far from innocent; it echoes the excesses of Lot’s
people; and it is being aped blindly in Muslim societies as fashion. So, it seems
to me, modesty and privacy have roles to play in countering the excesses of
global gay culture steeped in consumerism.
Privacy, of course, is not a licence for ‘anything goes’, since all our activities
are known to God to whom we will be answerable. But modesty and privacy
do stand guardians to the private fulfilment of our sexual nature—whatever
our orientation.
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47
THE VEIL
Most discussions about women in Islam begin with the veil, which is often
considered an instrument of control. It is defended passionately; and attacked
with ferocity—both by Muslims and non-Muslims. For centuries, the veil has
been used to represent Muslim women in stereotypical terms [26]. Nowadays,
it has acquired symbolic as well as political significance. But what does the
Qur’an say about the veil? Is it really a Muslim institution sanctioned by the
Sacred Text?
The term associated with the veil in the Qur’an is hijab. The word occurs
eight times in the Sacred Text (19:17; 38:32; 17:45; 41:5; 42:51; 7:46; 33:53;
83:15). Literally hijab means a curtain, partition or screen. In none of the
verses is hijab used in the sense conventionally understood by Muslim societies
as a piece of clothing covering the head and entire body; nor indeed the items
such as burqa, the head to toe shroud worn by Muslim women in the Indian
subcontinent, nor niqab, the face mask worn in the Middle East, nor the all-
enfolding black chador used in Iran nor the abaya of Arabia. Hijab is something
different all together.
In some verses of the Qur’an, hijab is used metaphorically to refer to a sepa-
ration, as in 7:46–7 where it signifies the separation between the inmates of
Paradise and the denizens of Hell: ‘a barrier divides the two groups with men
on its heights recognising each other by their marks: they will call out to the
people of the Garden, “Peace be with you!”—they will not have entered, but
they will be hoping, and when their glance falls upon the people of the Fire,
they will say, “Our Lord, do not let us join the evildoers”.’ In 83:15, hijab is
something that separates the unjust on the Day of Judgement from God: ‘No
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indeed! On that day they will be screened off from their Lord.’ And in 42:51
it is used to intimate how God communicates with humankind: ‘it is not
granted to any mortal that God should speak to him except through revelation
or from behind a veil’.
But the verse particularly associated with the veil, the hijab verse, is 33:53.
It reads:
Believers, do not enter the Prophet’s apartment for a meal unless you are given permis-
sion to do so; do not linger until [a meal] is ready. When you are invited, go in; then,
when you have taken your meal, leave. Do not stay on and talk, for that would offend
the Prophet, though he would shrink from asking you to leave. God does not shrink
from the truth. When you ask his wives for something, do so from behind a screen:
this is purer both for your hearts and for theirs. It is not right for you to offend God’s
Messenger, just as you should never marry his wives after him: that would be grievous
in God’s eye.
When classical commentators refer to this verse, they speak of ‘the descent
of the hijab’. This means two things: the descent of a revelation from God, and
the descent of a piece of material between the wives of the Prophet and the
men who were visiting. There are a number of obvious points we can make
about this ‘descent’ of the veil. The verse is teaching basic rules of behaviour
to the people of Medina, living in extraordinary times. It is addressed specifi-
cally to those believers who are invited to the household of the Prophet for a
meal. It specifically asks this same group of believers to treat the Prophet’s
wives with respect and talk to them ‘from behind a screen’. And it states that
no one should marry the wives of the Prophet after his death. So the verse is
not only specific but emphasises its specificity. A little background context will
explain why the verse is couched in such specific terms.
First, the general context of Medina during the time when 33:53 was
revealed. The city was small; it provided its inhabitants with a very intimate
and confined living space. The Prophet and his companions formed a tightly
knit unit. The centre of attraction and activity was the Prophet’s mosque, and
the most coveted space was next to the mosque, where the Prophet himself
lived with his wives. Even Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet, found it diffi-
cult to find a space for herself in the area. A door from the mosque led straight
to the apartment of his wife Aisha. So the Prophet himself had little private
space; indeed, the distinction between his private and public life had all but
disappeared. But during this period Medina was also a conflict-ridden society.
The Muslims had just lost a battle—the Battle of Uhud—and were in a state
of crisis. Various tribes jostled for power, tensions existed between Jewish and
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THE VEIL
non-Jewish tribes, as well as inter-clan conflict and conflicts within the promi-
nent families of Medina [27].
The small Muslim community was focused not just on the Prophet but also
his wives. They were of great interest to the community as a source of informa-
tion about the Prophet, and they talked and engaged freely with the men
around them. But they could also be controversial and attracted comment,
gossip and even scandal. To make matters worse, the enemies of the Prophet
had threatened him by declaring their intention to marry his wives after his
death. And rumours and gossip were circulating about his wives.
Second, the specific occasion when 33:53 was revealed. The Prophet had just
married Zaynab Bint Jahsh and had invited a number of guests to the wedding.
Three of the guests had overstayed their welcome and were unwilling to leave
when the wedding meal was over. The Prophet was keen to be alone with his
new bride but the guests refused to take the hint. He left the unwilling guests
a number of times only to find them still there on his return. When the guests
finally left, the Prophet’s attendant, Anas ibn Malik, insisted on talking and
helping him. Finally, the Prophet let a curtain fall between himself and Anas to
ensure some privacy. It is at that moment that the hijab verse descended.
When seen in this context, the verse becomes quite clear. Specifically, its
meaning is that even prophets need privacy and time to themselves. Universal
principles, respect for privacy and modesty, emphasised elsewhere in the Qur’an
are applied in this verse to a very specific—and unrepeatable—instance, in the
case of the Prophet and his wives. There never will be comparable cases because
Muhammad is the last prophet, no other women therefore will be wives of a
prophet. Generally, we can read 33:53 as a call from God for etiquette.
This, then, is the extent of the multifaceted use of the term hijab in the
Qur’an. So the question is how does this term, used in such various con-
texts, come to be the universally recognised term for Muslim women’s head
covering?
There are many verses addressed to the Prophet that have universal signifi-
cance. So the question is how we distinguish between the specific and the
universal. Should behaviour required towards a unique individual and his
unique household be the model for all Muslim households? Or does this verse
extend a general principle to circumstances that can never arise again? A rea-
soned and proportionate answer, I think, is to see this verse as an exception
that is particular, time-bound and distinct from the general rule.
To treat everyone, and especially every woman, according to what was espe-
cially deemed appropriate for the Prophet and his wives strikes me as a pre-
331
sumption too far. In practice, it has led to a vast and generalised injustice to
women since it has been used to justify not only the seclusion of women but
also a denial of education to women as well as other limitations. The social
reality produced severely affects women’s ability to be active agents in creating
and working for just and equitable societies, a duty which the Qur’an specifi-
cally and repeatedly addresses to believing men and believing women. And still
we have not come upon any reference to mode of dress!
A reference to mode of dress occurs in 33:59: ‘O Prophet, tell your wives,
your daughters and women believers to wrap their outer garments closely
around them, for this makes it more likely that they be recognised and not be
harassed. God is All-Forgiving, Compassionate to each.’ Here we have clearly
moved from the specific to the general by the inclusion of ‘believing women’.
However, it is not seclusion from society but specifically going out and about
which is the context in which mode of dress is mentioned. And what is men-
tioned is ‘outer garments’; the word used is jalabib (singular, jilbab), which can
mean a mantle or cloak. We can be confident that the purpose of wrapping the
outer garments closely around themselves is to be modest and to identify them-
selves to the rest of the community as modest women, since that is the subject
of the entire passage in which the verse occurs. But to understand what it
means in terms of type of apparel, we need to know more about the conven-
tions in Medina at the time of the Prophet, which is where 24:31 comes in.
We get a clearer idea about the type of dress worn by the women of Medina
and more generally the Arabia of the Prophet from verse 24:31, though much
depends upon the translation one consults. Khalidi’s translation makes self-
evident what other translators usually confine to footnotes. Khalidi gives the
verse as:
Tell believing women to avert their eyes, and safeguard their private parts, and not to
expose their attractions except what is visible. And let them wrap their shawls around
their breast lines, and reveal their attractions only before their husbands or fathers, or
fathers-in-law, or sons, or sons of their husbands or brothers, or sons of brothers, or
sons of sisters, or their womenfolk, or slaves, or male attendants with no sexual desire,
or children with no intimate knowledge of the private parts of women. And let them
not stamp their feet to reveal what they hide of their ornaments.
What is evident is that the style of dress prevalent in Medina exposed a good
deal of the female body. The shawl mentioned in this verse, the term used being
khimar (plural khumur), refers to a head covering at the time commonly worn
mostly as an ornament that hung loosely down a woman’s back. The dress worn
by women of the time had a deep cleavage which exposed the breasts. A sen-
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THE VEIL
sible reading of the verse, then, suggests that what it is seeking to achieve is a
covering of nakedness, the ‘charm’ in question.
It seems to me that in both these verses, 24:31 and 33:59, the only ones in
the Qur’an that specifically refer to matters of dress, the objective is to achieve
modesty and public chastity by concealing nakedness and not sexualising one’s
appearance. Rather than specifics of how to dress, or designating a specific form
of attire or uniform, it is the combination of lowering one’s gaze along with
seeking modesty within the dress conventions of the time that we are meant
to understand. Modesty cannot be reduced to a piece of cloth, whatever form
or fashion it might have, but rather consists of the sum total of behaviour and
a distinctive moral outlook. And this is exactly the point made in verse 7:26:
‘We have sent down upon you a garment to hide your shame, and as adorn-
ment. But the garment of piety—that is best’ (Khalidi). In this instance I have
to confess I prefer the translation of Yusuf Ali, who translates the crucial phrase
as ‘the raiment of righteousness’. This raiment of righteousness, counterposed
to any actual garments one wears, is a moral condition, a state of mind and of
being. It can and will be found within any and all styles, customs and fashions
of dress by those intent on righteousness or God consciousness. And equally
no style of dress will be sufficient if the moral intention of righteousness is not
within the heart and mind of the person. So far as I am aware, pieces of cloth
have no moral conscience in and of themselves.
In discussion of form of dress, the Qur’an speaks in general and vague terms
rather than specifics. It provides a moral context in which judgements are to be
made about how to dress and how to comport oneself however one is dressed.
And none of the relevant verses we have considered explains the precise associa-
tion that Muslim society has made between the term hijab and conventions of
dress [28]. Those conventions are based on pre-existing social customs; the
niqab, the burqa or the chador derive from the cultural traditions of regions
beyond Arabia not anything the Qur’an itself says. Seclusion and veiling of
women were prevalent practices of the Hellenic Middle East and Persian soci-
ety, heartlands of the development of classical Muslim civilisation.
I can just about see the contorted route of reasoning by which extreme forms
of the seclusion of women and obsessive covering have emerged [29]. But to
me, they seem to owe more to misogyny than uplifting moral principle. ‘Virtu-
ous women’ become vicarious custodians of social probity, responsible for
men’s weakness and proclivity for sexual lasciviousness. This is by no means a
perversity exclusive to Muslim society, since such attitudes are depressingly
common around the globe in so many societies and cultures. It is, however,
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explicitly at odds with the transformative vision that the Qur’an seeks to incul-
cate. Instead of achieving a concrete or specific material form of ‘raiment of
righteousness’, what results is an entirely unbalanced onus placed upon women.
Verse 24:31 has to be reintegrated into the whole passage in which it occurs,
beginning with verse 24:30: ‘Tell believing men to avert their eyes, and safe-
guard their private parts; this is more decent for them.’ Modesty cannot
become the raiment of righteousness of an entire society when it is the burden
and obligation of only one half of the population. Traditional interpretation
in fact performs an inversion of Qur’anic principle by making women respon-
sible for the lack of moral probity and modesty, not to say the sexual obsession
of men. Reading verses 24:30 and 31 together make it abundantly clear how
perverse this habit is. In fact it is not so much perverse as potentially perverted,
a licence for lechery which is exactly what the Qur’an’s balanced approach
seeks to end.
So where does that leave the vexed matter of hijab as a political issue in the
here and now? I can see no Qur’anic warrant for burqas, chadors, abayas and
niqab. There is no legal requirement, sanctioned by the Qur’an or the Prophet,
that compels Muslim women to wear specific dress, to hide their faces in pub-
lic, or to shroud themselves from top to bottom. Had this been the case, the
injunction of the Qur’an for men and women to ‘lower their gaze’ would
hardly make any sense. And I find the whole notion that certain men, in the
guise of moral police, should go around telling women to cover themselves
totally reprehensible. And there are just as many women prepared to serve as
harridan scourges ready to tell other women that not even a strand of hair
should be allowed on public view.
However, in the case of hijab, the convention of covering the head, it seems
to me that Muslim women should be free to choose for themselves how they
observe modesty. It has been made into a volatile political issue not only by
Muslim society but increasingly in many Western nations with Muslim minori-
ties. Campaigns and tirades against the burqa and niqab reveal more about the
prejudice and suspicion of the host society than they do of insight into Muslim
culture. Nevertheless, the unthinking resistance by which custom and tradition
are upheld in the name of Islam by Muslim men does nothing to advance
mutual understanding or increase the freedom of choice and empowerment
of Muslim women. Hijab is, in my view, a private and personal matter for each
woman; the choice will no doubt be conditioned by culture, circumstance and
history, and the choice of each individual should be respected. To regard a
woman’s choice as solely a function of male dogmatism and imposition is to
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THE VEIL
reduce the integrity, agency and conscience of Muslim women even further. It
belittles and demeans the intelligence and commitment of the way in which
some women have come to understand and express their religion. It can never
be the case that covering or not covering is the beginning and end of the mat-
ter, however. Covering does not preclude immoral behaviour. There are mil-
lions of Muslim women who do not wear the hijab or cover their heads, yet
are modestly dressed. Modesty is a judgement that must be made on the basis
of more than what is worn; it is about behaviour, of men as well as women,
about their attitude and outlook, it is a whole person project and must be
understood as such by society.
Traditional exegesis of the Qur’an may have subverted the equality of
women. But that does not mean we cannot reconcile our commitment to the
Qur’an with equality for all—men and women.
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48
FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION
We have seen the importance that the Qur’an gives to reason and rational
enquiry. The believers are repeatedly asked to explore and investigate the world
around them, study the laws governing nature, and discover the ‘signs of God’:
‘God reveals to you the signs so that you may think’ (2:266). But thinking and
the associated activities of study and investigation are not possible without
freedom of thought, opinion and enquiry. It would thus be logical for the
Qur’an to promote freedom of expression.
Freedom of expression begins with total freedom of belief and conviction:
we have already discussed the categorical injunction that ‘there is no compulsion
in religion’ (2:256) in chapter 23. Men and women, of their own free will,
decide to believe or not to believe in the ‘unseen’. As a corollary, both those who
choose to believe and those who choose not to believe are equally free to criti-
cise and challenge each other’s positions, air their disputes, and speak and listen
freely and without impunity. There will, of course, be disputes on all sides. The
believers are given specific advice on how to settle their differences: ‘If you are
in dispute over any matter, refer to God and the Messenger’ (4:59). At the time
of the Prophet Muhammad, the mosque was often the best place to settle such
disputes. It was both a place of worship and an arena for debating, discussing
and sorting out differences of opinion, thoughts, ideas and strategies openly
and freely. The equivalent place for debating the differences between the believ-
ers and non-believers is the public space, where contesting truth claims can be
properly debated and the goal of promoting ideas, enquiry and investigations
achieved only in an atmosphere of total freedom of expression. As such, free-
dom of expression, I would argue, is as sacred as the mosque.
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It was in the mosque in Medina that a woman (we know her to be Kholah,
daughter of Thalaba and wife of Aws bin Thabit) complained to the Prophet
about being insulted and abused by her husband. But this was not an ordinary
complaint: she has a fierce argument with the Prophet, who by now was also
the political leader of the community, and expressed her opinion openly and
forcefully. Indeed, she was so outspoken that the Qur’an, in the opening verse
of chapter 58, called ‘The Dispute’, refers to the incident: ‘God has heard the
words of the woman who disputed with you [Prophet] about her husband and
complained to God’ (58:1). The dispute in question concerned a pagan divorce
practice by which a wife was not only deprived of her marital rights but also
prevented from marrying someone else—effectively left in limbo, neither mar-
ried nor unmarried. The second verse explains what this practice amounted
to: ‘Even if any of you say to their wives, “You are to me like my mother’s back”,
they are not their mothers; their only mothers are those who gave them birth.
What they say is certainly blameworthy and false, but God is pardoning and
forgiving’ (58:2). The Prophet’s reply to the woman was ‘you are unlawful to
him now’. But the revelation takes the woman’s side; the rules of divorce, as we
saw in chapter 21, are changed to prevent such cruel treatment of wives. The
purpose of the exercise is to show that forthright opinion, expressed openly
and freely, can promote justice and lead to progress in law and knowledge.
Indeed, it is a sacred duty of the believers to stand up and speak truth to
power. The Qur’an urges the Muslims to ‘be a community that calls for what
is good, urges what is right, and forbids what is wrong: those who do this are
the successful ones’ (3:104). This verse is often rendered differently to read, for
example in Yusuf Ali’s translation, as ‘let there arise out of you a band of people
inviting to all that is good…’ But the verse refers, as Abdel Haleem rightly sug-
gests, to ‘the whole community, not just a part of it’ [30]. So, every member
of the whole community is asked to stand up for what is ‘good’ and what is
‘right’, or, in other words, truth and justice. Arriving at truth requires constant
interrogation and criticism. Defending a just cause also necessitates criticising
what is unjust. And one can only stop ‘wrong’ being committed by loudly con-
demning and even denigrating it. All this can only be done in an atmosphere
where freedom of expression is respected, where there is no fear of penalty,
persecution or intimidation. The sacred duty of ‘inviting to all that is good’
can only be performed when the instrument for its delivery, freedom of expres-
sion, is seen as equally sacred, respected and upheld.
While freedom of expression is sacred, the Qur’an does prescribe the eti-
quette for its exercise. Believers are asked to argue in the ‘best way’ (29:46) and
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‘most courteous way’ (16:125). Making erroneous assumptions or speaking

badly about other people without any reason is to be shunned: ‘Believers, avoid
making too many assumptions—some assumptions are sinful—and do not spy
on one another or speak ill of people behind their backs: would any of you like
to eat the flesh of your own dead brother?’ (49:12). Moreover, one should not
believe what one reads in a newspaper or hears through the grapevine, but
should check the facts before opening one’s mouth: ‘Believers, if a trouble-
maker brings you news, check it first, in case you wrong others unwittingly and
later regret what you have done’ (49:6). An honest opinion, ‘a good word’
based on evidence and facts, expressed courteously, says the Qur’an, is ‘like a
good tree whose root is firm and whose branches are high in the sky, yielding
constant fruit by its Lord’s leave…’ (14:24–5).
The verse continues: ‘but an evil word is like a rotten tree, uprooted from
the surface of the earth, with no power to endure’ (14:26). So freedom of
expression can also be abused. Such abuse often comes in the form of slander,
or ‘false assertions’, which can be uttered both in public and private places, for
example against chaste women (24:4); or libel; or straightforward insult and
abuse. The believers are asked not to ‘revile those who invite others to profess
faith in deities other than Allah, lest they, in their hostility and ignorance,
revile God’ (6:108). Furthermore, believers, men and women, are asked ‘not
to jeer at another, who may after all be better than them’, or ‘speak ill of one
another’, or to ‘use offensive nicknames for one another’ (49:11). So there are
both legal and moral restraints on the freedom of expression.
But the moral restraints are addressed specifically to the believers. The
Qur’an does not expect the non-believers to show similar restraint. Which
brings us to blasphemy. In Islamic history, blasphemy was intrinsically linked
with apostasy, heresy, and rejection of God and revelation. The juristic argu-
ments for and against these, as Mohammad Hashim Kamali shows in his excel-
lent book Freedom of Expression in Islam [31], are convoluted, sophistic and,
frankly in my opinion, have little contemporary relevance. In general, opinions
(ra’y) expressed in public were divided into three verities: praiseworthy, blame-
worthy or doubtful.
Praiseworthy opinions, as one would expect, were those that extolled the
virtues of the Qur’an and the Prophet Muhammad. Blameworthy opinions
were those seen as blasphemy, sedition, heresy and the like. Often political
offences were given religious overtones. And jurist after jurist argued that capi-
tal punishment was the only way to deal with such opinions. For example, the
jurist Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328) went out of his way to deduce ‘evidence’ to
339
prove that the punishment for using insulting language directed towards God
and the Prophet (Sabb Allah wa Sabb al-Rasul) was death [32]. I think such
juristic gymnastics and the rulings they produced should be left where they
belong—in history. They serve no useful purpose for our times.
Classical juristic opinion is at odds, as it frequently seems to be, with the
spirit and teachings of the Qur’an. I find the whole idea of blasphemy irrelevant
to Islam. Either you are free to believe and not believe or you are not. If there is
no compulsion in religion then all opinions can be expressed feely, including
those which cause offence to religious people. The believers will show respect
and use respectful language toward God and His Prophet simply because they
are believers. Non-believers, by definition, take a rejectionist attitude to both.
We should not be too surprised if non-believers resort to the use of what the
believers would regard as unbecoming language towards sacred religious
notions. The Qur’an expects this; and this is how the real world behaves.
God, ‘the Self-Sufficient One’, in His Majesty, is hardly going to be bothered
if a few insults are hurled at him. He can certainly look after himself: ‘the Most
Excellent Names belong to God: use them to call on Him, and keep away from
those who abuse them—they will be requited for what they do’ (7:180). In
other words, punishment or reward for those who abuse God lies with God;
we have nothing to do with it and are required simply to stay away from such
matters. As for the Prophet himself, he was constantly abused and blasphemed,
in everyday words as well as poetry, during the period of his prophethood,
particularly his time in Mecca. He took no action against those who ridiculed
him. If the Prophet himself did not penalise those who uttered profanities
against him, who are we to act on his behalf ?
Of course, we, the believers, have the right to be offended. But we have no
right to silence our critics. To do so would be to act against the clear injunc-
tions of the Qur’an and the example set by the Prophet. In matters of blas-
phemy, unfair criticism or expression of serious differences, the Qur’an expects
the believers to show moral restraint, and not to be unnecessarily oversensitive.
When the differences become truly irreconcilable, the Qur’an asks the believ-
ers to live and let live:
Say ‘O unbelievers! I do not worship what you worship,
Nor do you worship what I worship;
Nor will I ever worship what you worship,
Nor will you ever worship what I worship.
You have your religion
And I have mine.’ (109:1–6)
340
The faith of the faithful cannot be damaged by ridicule or blasphemy,

whether it comes in the form of fiction or non-fiction.
But the faithful do have the right to retort in equal measure. This is well
illustrated by the Prophet, who instructed his followers: ‘when the Jews greet
you with the phrase “death be upon you (al-sam ‘alaykum)”, then you should
simply say “and upon you (wa ‘alaykum)”’. So words can be used against words.
The Qur’an provides us with another illustration. An uncle of the Prophet
Muhammad was fiercely opposed to him; he and his wife often ridiculed and
insulted the Prophet by shouting ‘may your hands be ruined’. He was a beauti-
ful, glowing man who had acquired the nickname Abu Lahab, ‘father of the
flame’. His wife used to tie bunches of thorns with rope to throw at the
Prophet. The Qur’an’s retort to Abu Lahab and his wife comes in chapter 111,
‘Palm Fibre’ or ‘Twisted Strand’: ‘May the hands of Abu Lahab be ruined! May
he be ruined too! Neither his wealth nor his gains will help him: he will burn
in the Flaming Fire—and so will his wife, the firewood carrier, with a palm-
fibre rope around her neck’ (111:1–5). In the verse Abu Lahab’s name becomes
a pun; his ‘hand’ is used as a metonym for ‘power’. ‘Carrier of firewood’ is not
only a literal description for his wife, but also has the literary connotation of
someone who perpetuates slanderous and hateful fiction. The rope around her
neck not only describes the twisted nature of her mind, but also alludes to the
spiritual truth we read elsewhere in the Qur’an: ‘we have bound each human
being’s destiny to his neck’ (17:13). The overall message of the sura is clear:
fight metaphor with metaphor, idea with idea, book with book. The believers
are asked to express themselves as freely as anyone else.
It is, of course, one thing to have a right; quite another to be able to exercise
it. There are very few places in the Muslim world where one is genuinely free
to express oneself, where open criticism of power is actually tolerated, or where
criticism of obnoxious religious practices is not seen simply as an attack on
Islam itself. State power, particularly in countries that carry the appendage
‘Islamic’, where Ibn Taymiyya still rules, is total and absolute. Often, law, reli-
gion, morality, ethics and politics are one and the same thing, bound together
in a totalitarian formula. Those who criticise such entities, stand up to demand
justice, urge good and right actions, are indeed very brave for they are fre-
quently persecuted, thrown in prison, tortured and even killed. The propensity
for suppression and torture in most Muslim countries is truly harrowing. In
such places, freedom of expression and the teachings of the Qur’an exist only
as abstract ideals and play virtually no part in shaping the religious and politi-
cal make-up of the state.
341
However, the problems of freedom of expression are not limited to the Mus-
lim world. In the contemporary world, freedom of expression works as a one-
way street: it works for Western writers, thinkers, intellectuals and journalists
to say what they wish about the Qur’an, the Prophet, Islam and Muslims and
to promote their agenda on a global level. The flow of thoughts and ideas is
strictly from the West to the Muslim world. Hardly any cultural product from
Muslim societies comes to the West, even in these days of globalisation. So we
do not find the cultural products of Islam and Muslims in the bookshops of
the Western democracies or at the airport lounges of the world. Only one kind
of expression has the full freedom to express itself. Indeed, the notion of free-
dom of expression sometimes becomes an instrument of power to frame Islam
and Muslims in images of violence, depravity, ignorance, stupidity and mon-
strosity. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the notion of a civilizing
mission was used to shove out the manure about the exotic orient, the beastly
savages, and the noble white men taking up their burdens in tropical hell holes
and getting no thanks for their pains. The notion of freedom of expression, it
seems to me, has become the twenty-first-century equivalent of a civilizing
mission. It is sometimes used to perpetuate a literary and media culture that
serves as handmaiden to neo-colonialism, neo-conservatism and instrumental
modernity with the sole aim of controlling and containing Muslim cultures.
No wonder that Muslims as a whole have rather ambivalent attitudes to free-
dom of expression.
Western societies certainly claim to uphold freedom of expression. However,
without equality of access to the public space that ensures balanced cultural
flows of opinion, that enables word to answer word, book to answer book,
freedom of expression is honoured in the abstract while injustice is the routine
practice. Denial of access to the free expression of one’s contrary opinion fuels
dissension and division, a far from healthy recipe for a stable society. Indeed,
freedom of expression, especially as the right to a free press, has been raised to
the level of an absolute in Western discourse. It has become an irreducible
concept that can have no limits. This is the Larry Flint argument for freedom
of expression: even the most explicit pornography must be permitted, other-
wise the jackboots of tyrants will march over the rights of all ordinary citizens.
Where one right is raised to the level of an absolute it becomes impossible to
reason between principle, context, substance and meaning. I would argue that
there is a distinction to be made between robust open debate, even the kind
which causes offence, and dissension. The Qur’an counsels against dissension,
by which it indicates unsubstantiated opinion used to stimulate division and
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acrimony. I would suggest, for example, that ‘hate speech’, the intentional desire
to demonise particular ideas or groups of people and incite injustice or vio-
lence towards them, would fall into this category. The essence of the limits of
freedom of expression, without which the Qur’anic moral and ethical frame-
work cannot operate, is to be found and guaranteed by establishing a society
of mutual respect. In a society where all people feel assured in their rights to
believe and live according to their beliefs and have equitable access to the pub-
lic space, the etiquette of mutual tolerance can flourish and freedom of expres-
sion can operate as debate rather than the dynamics of dissension.
But in the end, the community that follows the Qur’an is defined by the
fact that it is ‘guided to good speech and to the path of the One Worthy of all
Praise’ (22:24). The Qur’an’s general advice to believers is to ignore the opin-
ions of those who hurl abuse at them, demonise them in their fiction, films and
television shows, mock their Prophet in cartoons, and scorn and stereotype
them in their media. Rather, Muslims are asked to concentrate on their own
shortcomings and tackle their own problems. ‘Now if you paid attention to
the majority on earth, they would lead you away from the path of God. They
follow nothing but speculation; they themselves do nothing but guess’ (6:116).
I guess that sums it up!
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49
SUICIDE
(ASSISTED OR OTHERWISE)
Life is one the most precious gifts of God. The Qur’an makes it clear that life
is sacred and human beings are sacrosanct. Each life is an integral part of the
humanity as a whole: that is why ‘if anyone kills a person—unless in retribu-
tion for murder or spreading corruption in the land—it is as if he kills all man-
kind; while if any saves a life it is as if he saves the lives of all mankind’ (5:32).
By equating an individual life with the rest of humanity, the Qur’an emphasises
the overall importance of preserving and conserving life. We are thus asked to
regard the lives of others as well as our own life as inviolable, a bequest from
God that has to be cherished and lovingly maintained.
Life is sacred; but it is not ours. It does not belong to us. It is not our property
or possession. The formula ‘my life, my death, my choice’, paraded in Western
societies, is wrong on all three counts. It is not your life. Rather, it is an amana,
a trust, from God. We are merely trustees of our own lives. We have the respon-
sibility of looking after this trust, to make sure that we maintain the trust and
live the best possible life. We cannot take our own life, simply because it is not
ours to take. We have no choice. To commit suicide would be to violate the trust.
It would be an act of monumental ungratefulness. It would be taking something
that belongs to God. It would not just be killing oneself but like killing all of
humanity. Hence, the unambiguous, categorical instruction in the Qur’an: ‘Do
not contribute to your destruction with your own hands’ (2:195).
Life is sacred; but it is not meaningless. It has a purpose. ‘Do you think we
have created you in vain?’ (23:115), God asks in the Qur’an. The purpose of
life, as the Qur’an tells us again and again, is to seek justice and equity, to pur-
345
sue knowledge and virtue, to worship God; and to stay on this earth till the
appointed time when God takes you back, and you return from whence you
came. To commit suicide is to deny that life—your life—however meaningless
it may appear, has a purpose. It is to infringe the right of the true author of
life, who is the only One who can write an ending for your life. It is an act of
usurpation, a vain attempt to acquire the attributes of God. This is why when
you face God, after committing suicide, ‘He will say: Begone! Do not speak
to Me’ (23:108).
Life is sacred; but it is also a journey, ‘a passing delight and a play’ (29:64).
During a journey, we come across many wonders that delight us as well as many
sights that upset us. We go up high on the mountains and go down into the
valleys. We face happiness and we face grief. A play has its twists and turns, its
struggles and battles, its moments of joy and triumphs and its instances of sor-
row and deep tragedy. In life, we face all these things; and all come as a test
from God. ‘We will certainly test you with fear and hunger, and loss of prop-
erty, lives and crops’, we read in 2:155; and again, in 47:31: ‘We shall test you
to see which of you strive the hardest and are steadfast; we shall test the sincer-
ity of your assertion.’ We have no problem with the test, and hence life, when
we are happy (although I would argue that the test here is just as severe); but
in times of depression, despair and calamity, life becomes a burden and
thoughts of suicide may enter the mind.
Despair is a powerful driver. It is not only unbearably painful but a state of
total hopelessness and meaninglessness. It is absolute emptiness with awful
pain. This is why despair is one of the major causes of suicide. But for believers,
there is always hope. That, after all, is the prime function of faith. A true
believer cannot descend into a state of despair, for that would be tantamount
to denial of the mercy and beneficence of God. The Qur’an repeatedly asks the
believers not to despair, but to ‘be steadfast’ (16:127) and say, ‘when afflicted
with calamity, “we belong to God and unto Him we shall return”’ (2:156). Do
not ‘hope for death’, the believers are told, ‘before you encounter it’ (3:142).
The Qur’an, I would argue, does not look with favour at despair.
That there is always hope is well illustrated in the story of Prophet Job. First,
he lost his wealth. But he was not grieved. Then his children were killed. Still
he remained steadfast. Then he was struck with an unbearable illness that left
him incapacitated. Indeed, his body was so afflicted that people felt disgusted
when they looked at him. In excruciating pain, he cried to God: ‘Suffering has
truly afflicted me, but you are the Most Merciful of the merciful.’ Eventually,
Job received a reply to his cries for help: ‘We answered him, removed his suf-
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SUICIDE (ASSISTED OR OTHERWISE)
fering, and restored his family to him, along with more like him, as an act of
grace from Us and a reminder for all who serve Us’ (21:83–4).
There are three lessons to be drawn from this story. First, suffering is a natu-
ral part of life: anyone can be inflicted with pain and sorrow, and no one, not
even a prophet, has the right to escape pain. Of course, no one wants to suffer;
and we must do all we can to alleviate pain and reduce suffering as much as
possible. But there is no absolute right that states that we should not suffer.
Second, suffering has a value. It is only through seeing the pain and agony of
others that we learn what compassion is all about. People found it difficult to
look at Job: but only by looking at him could they realise that they too can
become victim of such affliction. It is through that connection, of seeing some-
one suffering, that one understands the true meaning of human compassion.
Three, one should never give up. At each stage of the story, Job remains stead-
fast; he does not ask for death as an escape from his suffering, but prays for an
end to suffering itself. It is his steadfastness that is ultimately rewarded. When
it comes to suffering and death, mercy comes only from God; it is not a human
prerogative.
Life is sacred; so it cannot be ranked. All life, whatever its quality, according
to the Qur’an, is equally valid and valuable. The value of life does not lie in its
alleged usefulness, however we may define and measure usefulness. It lies in
the fact that it is a life: it has not been created as a ‘pointless game’ but has a
‘true purpose’ that not all of us can ‘comprehend’ (44:38–9). The idea that
certain lives are not worth living violates the very notion of humanity that the
Qur’an is arguing for. The lives of a terminally ill person, the person in a coma,
the person in excruciating pain, the senile person confined to their bed, are all
as valid and important as the lives of anyone else. The life of suffering has a
purpose. It is still a journey that must reach its natural conclusion. The notion
that it would be ‘merciful’ to end such lives is an obnoxious idea. ‘Mercy kill-
ing’ is in fact killing: with or without the consent of the person involved.
Life is sacred; therefore all possibilities for life must remain open. The
underlying assumption of such notions as ‘mercy killing’ and ‘assisted suicide’
is that suffering is an objective and static phenomenon. It can be assessed and
measured; and thus we can make a reasonable decision. But unbearable situa-
tions can change, suffering can be alleviated, if not today than sometime in the
future. Who is to say that a cure is not around the corner? Who is to say that
palliative care will not improve? This possibility is totally eliminated from the
equation if we allow or aid someone pleading to die. It is equally possible that
the person in question may change his or her mind: not necessarily because
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pain and agony has been reduced but because they have changed their own
self-perception. People change their minds often; and their own perception
about themselves and their experience changes just as frequently. Mercy and
assisted killings also eliminate this possibility. As trustees of God, it is our
responsibility to keep all the possibilities for life open, right up to the last
breath. There is still hope when ‘nothing further can be done’: the hope of
prayer and of God’s mercy. Hence, the injunction in the Qur’an: ‘Do not kill
each other for God is merciful to you’ (4:29).
There is another assumption in the arguments put forward for ‘assisted sui-
cide’ that I find rather odd. ‘Assisted suicide’, it is suggested, allows a person to
die with dignity. The assumption here is that a severely ill dying person loses
dignity because of the way he or she is dying. This is an absurd notion of dig-
nity. A dying person has innate dignity, a product of the simple fact that they
are a human being. All human beings have a right to be treated with dignity;
and just because they are dying of some incurable illness, or suffering from pain
and agony, does not mean that their dignity has somehow evaporated. Surely,
it is the duty and responsibility of those who surround the dying person to
acknowledge the fact of their dignity and to treat them in a dignified manner.
It is the height of folly, I would argue, to suggest that their dignity can only be
preserved or restored by killing them.
This brings us to a contemporary phenomenon that has gained currency in
certain Muslim circles: ‘suicide bombing’. It is quite astonishing that such an
abhorrent act is accepted and practised by those who, loudly and frequently,
declare their love for Islam. I find the arguments of those who justify ‘suicide
bombings’ to be both twisted and pathological. The ‘suicide bombers’, it is sug-
gested, are in a position of such despair and helplessness that they have no
option but to use their bodies as a weapon. Killing civilians is regrettable but
is ultimately justified in the cause of a ‘just war’ against oppression, and, in any
case, all innocent victims will go to paradise. This position undermines virtu-
ally every teaching of the Qur’an.
First, ‘suicide bombing’ involves a suicide, which, as I have shown, is strictly
forbidden. There are always other victims of a suicide, with or without the
bomb, than the individuals who kill themselves. These include their family,
who suffer the effects of the suicide and have to live with its emotional, reli-
gious and other consequences for many years. Second, killing innocent civilians
is nothing but mass murder; and, according to the Qur’anic formulation, even
if a single person is killed it is in fact like killing all of humankind (5:32). So a
suicide bomber simultaneously commits two cardinal sins. The notion that the
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SUICIDE (ASSISTED OR OTHERWISE)
bomber is heading straight for paradise is perverse, to say the least. Third, if
the actual act of suicide bombing is an act of despair, then it signifies rejection
of God’s mercy and abandonment of hope. In other words, it undermines the
very raison d’être of Islam: ‘to be mindful of God’. Even in despair, the Qur’an
asks the believers ‘to do good in this world’ and ‘persevere patiently’: ‘God’s
earth is wide’ (39:10). Finally, if suicide killing was a viable weapon of a just
war, however conceived, then the Prophet Muhammad himself would have
used it. He had ample opportunity to do so. During his days in Mecca, where
he was severely persecuted and his life constantly threatened and his followers
were tortured, murdered and driven out of the city, the Prophet remained
steadfast. Even when he had to fight his enemies in Medina, he did not engage
in suicide missions; his battles were well-planned and based on strategies
designed to preserve life. Moreover, he forbade the taking of innocent lives,
killing of non-combatants, civilians, women and children, and destroying
plants and animals. During one of his battles, children of the enemy were killed
by mistake. The Prophet was visibly pained and started to cry. One of his fol-
lowers tried to console him; ‘they were only the children of unbelievers’, he
said. The Prophet replied angrily: ‘Aren’t you the child of an unbeliever too?’
To consider suicide bombing as a military tactic, or as a way of fighting, is to
violate everything that the Qur’an and Islam stand for.
Life is sacred; that is why ‘no human being can die except with God’s per-
mission at an appointed time’ (3:145). Our humanity is most tested at times
of severe despair and desperation, acute pain and agony, when life itself
becomes horrendous. But it is precisely at these moments that respect for life
needs to be reinforced.
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50
SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
We have already seen that the Qur’an gives immense importance to the pursuit
of knowledge. The Qur’an tells us that the universe is full of the ‘signs of God’,
and these signs can only be deciphered through rational and objective enquiry.
Verses encouraging us to read the ‘signs of God’, or to systematically study
nature, abound in the Sacred Text. The believers are repeatedly asked to think,
ponder and reason; and pray: ‘Lord, increase me in knowledge’ (20:114). One
of the most frequently cited verses of the Qur’an reads: ‘Surely in the heavens
and earth there are signs for the believers; and in your creation, and the crawl-
ing things He scatters abroad, there are signs for a people having sure faith, and
in the alternation of night and day, and the provision God sends down from
heaven, and therewith revives the earth after it is dead, and the turning about
of the winds, there are signs for a people who understand’ (45:3–5). Such
verses indicate that the Qur’an places a high priority on scientific enquiry.
The Qur’an, however, does not simply suggest, in general terms, that science
is important. It points towards methods for doing science. First, it urges the
readers to appreciate the importance of observation: ‘let man observe out of
what he has been created’ (86:5) and ‘do the believers not observe how rain
clouds are formed, how the heavens are lifted, how the mountains are raised
high, how the earth is spread out?’ (88:17). Second, it emphasises the signifi-
cance of measurement and calculation: ‘everything have We created in due
measure and proportion’ (54:49); ‘We send it down only according to a well-
defined measure’ (15:21); and ‘it is He who made the sun a shining radiance
and the moon a light, determining phases for it so that you might know the
number of years and how to calculate them’ (10:5). Third, after observations,
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measurements and calculations have been made, we are asked to draw infer-
ences: in all this, we are told, ‘there are messages indeed for people who use
their reason’ (2:164), so ‘will you not, then, use your reason?’ (2:73). Finally,
we are asked to proceed on the basis of evidence as ‘God Himself proffers evi-
dence’ (3:18).
The notion of ‘measure’ used in the Qur’an has a number of connotations.
Apart from the obvious idea of measurement, it also includes the suggestion
of proportion or mathematical relationships. These relationships, it is said, can
be insignificant, nothing more than froth; or deeply abiding, and hence have
the force of the laws of nature. This is brought out in 13:17: ‘Whenever He
sends down water from the sky, and [once-dry] river-beds are running high
according to their measure, the stream carries scum on its surface; and, like-
wise, from that [metal] which they smelt in the fire in order to make ornaments
or utensils, [there rises] scum. In this way does God set forth the parable of
truth and falsehood: for, as far as the scum is concerned, it passes away as [does
all] dross; but that which is of benefit to man abides on earth.’ What we are
being told is that understanding the deep structures of the material universe
would yield dividends for humanity. But these dividends are not freely avail-
able. The ‘measure’ also has the idea of extraction: we acquire our ‘due measure’
through our own efforts; that is, discoveries have to be made. ‘If God were to
grant abundant sustenance to all’, says the Qur’an, we ‘would behave on earth
with wanton insolence.’ Rather, we get ‘due measure’ according to the effort
we put into understanding and using the laws of nature (42:27). In other
words, nature does not yield its secrets without due and systematic effort.
It is worth noting that it is not just science that the Qur’an emphasises, but
also technology. There is a chapter called ‘Iron’ where God tells us that He ‘sent
iron, with its mighty strength and many uses for mankind’ (57:25). Iron, here,
serves as a metaphor for technology, which can be developed as a ‘means of
protection’ against nature and natural causes, from ‘heat and cold’, and as a
form of military defence (16:81). Technology comes in the form of ‘many
coloured things’ which can be developed to make jewellery as well as ships,
agriculture and animal husbandry and instruments for navigation and explora-
tion (16:10–16).
The Prophet Muhammad—who himself could not read or write—also
emphasised that the material world can only be understood through scientific
enquiry. Islamic culture, he insisted, was a knowledge-based culture. He valued
science over extensive worship, and declared: ‘An hour’s study of nature is bet-
ter than a year’s prayer.’ This is why he directed his followers to listen to the
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words of the scientist and instil in others the lessons of science and ‘go even as
far as China in the quest of knowledge’. The emphasis the Prophet gave to
rationality is well illustrated by the incident of the death of his infant son,
Ibrahim. The death of Ibrahim coincided with the eclipse of the sun. Some
Muslims in Medina saw that as a miracle, a sign from God. A rumour spread
throughout Medina that even the heavens are crying at the deep sorrow and
loss of the Prophet. But Muhammad was not consoled; instead he was angry
at this irrational gossip. ‘The sun and the moon are signs of God’, he announced.
‘They are eclipsed neither for the death nor the birth of any man’ [33].
But the study of nature and the use of reason have their limitations. The
Qur’an suggests that not all knowledge is good and wholesome. Knowledge can
become a temptation to do evil. In the verses that talk about Solomon, we read
about harmful knowledge that can destroy societies: ‘they learned what harmed
them, not what benefited them, knowing full well that whosoever acquires this
knowledge shall have no share in the good life to come’ (2: 102). The knowledge
in question here is described as ‘witchcraft’, but it applies equally to all forms of
knowledge, including scientific and objective knowledge. It is specifically to
avoid falling into this trap that the Qur’an suggests we see scientific enquiry as
a way of contemplating the unity of God. The Qur’anic notion of ‘ibada or wor-
ship, as I noted in the chapter on ‘Reason and Knowledge’, is intimately linked
to the concept of ‘ilm, or knowledge: both are a form of listening to God. This
has two significances. First, scientific enquiry becomes an obligation for Muslim
societies. Second, as contemplation, or form of worship, our scientific and tech-
nological endeavours cannot involve any form of violence, oppression or tyr-
anny or be pursued for unworthy goals and end up as destructive ‘harmful
knowledge’. Science has to be the pursuit of goodness and truth on behalf of
the public good and the promotion of social, economic and cultural justice. As
human beings, scientists are not independent of God, but are responsible and
accountable to God for their scientific and technological activities.
Moreover, as we saw in the chapter on ‘Nature and Environment’, as trustees
or khulafa’ of God on earth, all of us, scientists or not, are responsible for main-
taining and conserving nature and the creations of God.
Given the emphasis in the Qur’an, and the Prophet’s example in the support
of science and technology, the conventional notion that science and religion
are inimical does not hold water within an Islamic framework. No long and
protracted war between science and religion took place in Islamic history. The
‘war’ between ‘science’ and ‘religion’ was—and is—a purely Western affair, and
even there it is more of an illusory and self-serving argument.
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The intimate connection between Islam and science is clearly demonstrated

in the early history of Muslim civilisation. The initial drive for scientific knowl-
edge was based on religious requirements. The need for determining an accu-
rate time for daily prayers and the direction of Mecca from anywhere in the
Muslim world, establishing the correct date for the start of the fasting month
of Ramadan and the demands of the lunar Islamic calendar (which required
seeing the new moon clearly) led to intense interest in celestial mechanics,
optical and atmospheric physics and spherical trigonometry. Muslim laws of
inheritance led to the development of algebra. The religious requirement of
annual pilgrimage to Mecca generated intense interest in geography, map-
making and navigational tools [34].
Given the special emphasis the Qur’an places on learning and enquiry, it
was natural for classical Muslim societies to seek to master ancient knowledge.
At the instigation of powerful patrons, teams of translators lovingly translated
Greek thought and learning into Arabic. But Muslims were not content with
slavishly copying Greek knowledge; they tried to assimilate its content and
apply its principles to their own problems, in the process discovering new prin-
ciples and methods. Scholars such as al-Kindi, al-Farabi, ibn Sina, ibn Tufayl
and ibn Rushd subjected Greek philosophy to detailed critical scrutiny.
At the same time, serious attention was given to the empirical study of nature.
Experimental science, as we understand it today, began within Muslim civilisa-
tion. ‘Scientific method’ evolved out of the work of such scientists as Jabir ibn
Hayan (who was Christian), who laid the foundations of chemistry in the late
eighth century, and ibn Al-Haytham, who established optics as an experimental
science in the tenth century [35]. From astronomy to zoology, there was hardly
a field of study that Muslim scientists did not pursue vigorously, or to which
they did not make an original contribution. The nature and extent of this sci-
entific enterprise can be illustrated by four institutions which are considered
typical of ‘the Golden Age of Islam’: scientific libraries, universities, hospitals
and instruments for scientific observation (particularly, astronomical instru-
ments such as celestial globes, astrolabes, sundials and observatories).
The most famous library was the ‘House of Wisdom’ [36], founded in Bagh-
dad by the Abbassid Caliph al-Mamun, which played a decisive role in spread-
ing scientific knowledge throughout the Islamic empire. In Spain, the library
of Caliph Hakam II of Cordoba had a stock of 400,000 volumes. Similar librar-
ies existed from Cairo and Damascus to as far away as Samarkand and Bukhara.
The first university in the world was established at the Al-Azhar mosque in
Cairo in 970. It was followed by a host of other universities in such cities as Fez
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and Timbuktu. Like universities, hospitals too—where treatment was mostly

provided free of charge—were institutions for training as well as theoretical and
empirical research. The Abodi hospital in Baghdad and the Kabir an-Nuri hos-
pital in Damascus acquired worldwide reputations for their research output.
Doctors were entirely free to experiment and prescribe new drugs and treat-
ment, and wrote up their experiments in special reports which were available
for public scrutiny. The basic set of surgical instruments that would be familiar
to surgeons today were first developed by Muslim doctors. Similarly, there were
a string of observatories dotted throughout the Muslim world; the most influ-
ential one was established by the celebrated astronomer Nasir al-Din al-Tusi,
working at Maragha in Azerbaijan, where he developed the ‘Tusi couple’ which
helped Copernicus to formulate his heliocentric theory [37].
I reiterate this simply to bring out the stark contrast with the situation of
science and technology in the contemporary Muslim world. Science is incon-
spicuous in Muslim countries, where, in general, research and development
have a very low priority. The little research that is undertaken is usually associ-
ated with defence, and in particular with the development of nuclear or other
weapons. Not a single university of international renown can be found in any
Muslim country. So, whatever happened to what the historian of science
George Sarton [38] described as ‘the miracle of Arab culture’?
Numerous theories have been developed to explain the decline of science
in Muslim civilisation. Blame has been placed on Islamic law, Muslim family
relationships and lack of protestant ethics in Muslim culture. Even Islam itself,
seen as ‘anti-progressive’ and ‘anti-science’, has been blamed [39]. I do not
think that any of these theories are credible. I have my own theories which I
have described elsewhere [40]. Here, suffice to state a single brutal fact: Mus-
lims, consciously and deliberately, abandoned scientific enquiry in favour of
religious obscurantism and blind imitation. The idea of knowledge, which
included scientific and technological knowledge, was reduced, over centuries,
to mean only religious knowledge.
A major driving force behind the scientific spirit of Muslim civilisation was
the notion of ijtihad or systematic original thinking, based on the Qur’anic
injunctions to think and reason, ‘to use their minds’ (2:164), which became a
fundamental component of the classical worldview of Islam. The religious
scholars, a dominant class in Muslim society, feared that continuous and per-
petual ijtihad would undermine their power. They were also concerned that
scientists and philosophers had a higher prestige in society than religious schol-
ars. So they banded together and, over a number of centuries, managed to close
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‘the gates of ijtihad’; the way forward, they suggested, was taqlid, or imitation
of the thought and work of earlier generation of scholars. Ostensibly, this was
a religious move. But given the fact that the Qur’an propagates a highly inte-
grated view of the world and emphasises that everything is connected to every-
thing else, the reduction had a devastating impact on all forms of enquiry. The
‘minds’ were closed not just on religious but also on scientific and technologi-
cal issues. The religious scholars thus buried scientific enquiry to preserve their
hold on society.
Contemporary Muslim societies have deep emotional attachment to their
scientific heritage. But this attachment often expresses itself as an inferiority
complex. Nowadays, science in the Muslim world is not associated with labo-
ratories and centres of excellence but with a totally different endeavor: the
‘discovery’ of ‘scientific miracles in the Qur’an’. A whole body of literature has
evolved, known as ijaz, designed to read scientific facts and theories into the
Qur’an [41]. We have seen that the Qur’an contains many verses that point
towards physical phenomena. But they are mostly poetic and allegorical in
nature. Considerable mental gymnastics and distortion are required to read
scientific discoveries in these verses. Yet, almost everything, from relativity,
quantum mechanics, big bang theory, black holes and pulsars, genetics, embry-
ology, modern geology, thermodynamics, subatomic physics, electricity, even
the laser and the hydrogen fuel cells have been ‘found’ in the Qur’an. Indeed,
some verses of the Qur’an have even been turned into equations that are com-
bined like algebra to yield the value of the speed of light, the ages of the Uni-
verse and of the Earth, the distances between the ‘seven heavens’ [42], and
other such bewildering feats.
This is a highly toxic combination of religious and scientific fundamental-
ism. Elsewhere I have dubbed it ‘Bucaillism’, as it began in the mid 1970s with
the publication of The Bible, the Qur’an and Science by Maurice Bucaille [43],
an eccentric and authoritarian French surgeon. Bucaille examines the Holy
Scriptures in the light of modern science to discover what they have to say
about astronomy, the earth, animal and vegetable kingdoms. He finds that the
Bible does not meet the stringent criteria of modern knowledge. The Qur’an,
on the other hand, does not contain a single proposition at variance with the
most firmly established modern knowledge, nor does it contain any of the ideas
current at the time on the subjects it describes. Furthermore, the Qur’an con-
tains a large number of facts which were not discovered until modern times.
The book has been translated into almost every Muslim language from the
original French, and has spread the illusion that the Qur’an is a scientific trea-
356
tise. In more recent times, the ijaz literature and movement have been turned
into a global industry by the Turkish creationist Adnan Oktar, who writes
under the pseudonym of Haroon Yahya. In his book Miracles of the Qur’an
[44], Yahya claims to explain the verses of the Qur’an ‘in such a way as to leave
no room for doubt or question marks’. He suggests that the verse ‘we have sent
down iron in which there lies great force and which has many uses for man-
kind’ (57:25) is a ‘significant scientific miracle’ because ‘modern astronomical
findings have disclosed that iron found in our world has come from the giant
stars in outer space’. The verse ‘glory be to Him Who created all the pairs of
things that the earth produces’ (36:36) is claimed to predict anti-matter. And
the verse ‘He has let loose the two seas, converging together, with a barrier
between them they do not break through’ (55:19–20) is said to be all about
surface tension. But such inanities are not limited to crackpots and dogmatic
puritans. These notions are widely accepted by so-called scientists and univer-
sity professors in Muslim countries. Programmes to harness the energy of jinn
and prove the superiority of flies have been devised. Geology in the Qur’an is
on the curriculum of quite a few geology departments.
Bucaillism is a pathological tendency that does violence to the Qur’an and
is an insult to any sensible notion of scientific enquiry. The people who propa-
gate and lap up such toxic nonsense, in the words of the Qur’an, ‘hear nothing
but the sound of a voice and a cry: they are deaf, dumb, and blind, they under-
stand nothing’ (2:171).
To be faithful to their scientific heritage, Muslims need to do much more
than simply preserve the ashes of its fire: they need to transmit its flame. It is
the neglect of science that has plunged the contemporary Muslim world into
poverty and underdevelopment. Just as the spirit of Islam in history was
defined by its scientific enterprise, so the future of Muslim societies is depen-
dent on their relationship with science and learning. Without science and
technology, Muslim culture is, and will remain, truncated and unbalanced.
Given that scientific knowledge is a form of worship, a way to understand
God’s creation and His will, and an obligation as important as prayer, I would
argue that Muslim worship is incomplete without science.
Those who believe in the Qur’an are obliged to make a conscious effort to
pursue science and technology. Science is all about empirical research, hard
graft, viable models and testable theories; it is discovered not in the pages of
scripture, but by rolling up one’s sleeves and going back to the laboratory. There
are no quick fixes in science and technology. ‘What about someone who wor-
ships devoutly by night, bowing down, standing in prayer, ever mindful of life
357
to come, hoping for his Lord’s mercy?’ the Qur’an asks. Then answers: ‘how can
those who know be equal to those who do not know?’ (39:9). Prayer is prayer;
it is not a substitute for knowing. Acquiring scientific knowledge too requires
endless devotion, serious thought and constant effort. However, the pursuit of
science must be a socially responsible activity; it needs a reasoned moral and
ethical framework for its means and ends, as well as in setting its priorities for
research and development, to make its fullest contribution to the transformative
advancement of society and knowledge. To be true to their beliefs, Muslim
societies need to put as much effort into science as they do on prayer; and place
science where it belongs: at the very centre of Islamic culture.
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51
EVOLUTION
Let me start by pointing out the obvious. The entire debate about faith and
evolution has been constructed out of the history and concepts of Christian
thought. The Creationists’ arguments, including the idea of Intelligent Design,
are shaped by a literalist reading of the Biblical text. We should be careful not
to import attitudes and ideas from the familiar context of this debate into the
very different context of the Qur’an. The Qur’an refers, as we have already seen,
to narratives familiar from the Bible—including the creation, Prophet Nuh
(Noah) and the flood—but it does so in its own distinctive ways. The narra-
tives of the Qur’an are not meant to be ‘creation myths’ but allegories. As
always, we must read and try to understand the Qur’an on its own terms.
We find frequent reference in the Qur’an to God as the Creator of all things.
In 7:54 we read: ‘Your Lord God is He Who created the heavens and the earth
in six days.’ What are we to make of these ‘six days’? Should we take them liter-
ally? The word translated here as ‘days’ is yawm, which can signify both a day
in the sense of 24 hours as we understand it or an indeterminate period of time,
‘whether extremely long (aeon) or extremely short (moment)’, to use the words
of Muhammad Asad. That the word is not to be taken literally, and only has
allegorical significance, is made clear elsewhere in the Qur’an. In 41:9, for
example, we read: ‘Would you indeed deny Him who has created the earth in
two aeons?’ The verse then goes on to present a clearly allegorical image of cre-
ation: ‘Above the earth He erected towering mountains, and he blessed it, and
appraised its provisions in four days, in equal measure to those who need them.
Then he ascended to heaven, while yet smoke, and said to it and the earth:
“Come forth, willing or unwilling!” And both responded: “We come willingly.”
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He then ordained the seven heavens in two days and inspired each heaven
with its disposition…Such was the devising of the Almighty, All-knowing’
(41:10–12). (I have used the rather poetic translation by Tarif Khaldi here.)
We also have to consider the use of the word yawm in relation to 32:5, which
not only deals with creation but also our ultimate return to God for judgement
in the Hereafter, when ‘everything will ascend to Him in the end, on a day that
will measure a thousand years in your reckoning’. Clearly, when we are dealing
with things that are beyond direct human experience, we are not dealing with
the kind of mundane days of our reckoning, but talking in metaphorical terms.
This is made clear in the verse that follows, 32:6: ‘Such is He who knows all
that is beyond the reach of a created being’s perception, as well as all that can
be witnessed by a creature’s senses of mind: the Almighty, the Dispenser of
Grace who makes most excellent everything that He creates.’
So what we are dealing with is an allegory, a figurative vision of the awesome
creation of the universe. It is not, nor is it meant to be, a precise manual of the
processes of creation which occurred in time, and definitely not the kind of
timescale we are familiar with in our daily life. It would be totally foolish to
confuse the allegorical with the literal. The Qur’an leaves us to work out the
precise details of how the universe came into being, what are the laws that
determine its existence and expansion, and how it will evolve, using our own
reason. There are, however, a few hints for us to ponder: ‘Are the disbelievers
not aware that the heavens and the earth used to be joined together and that
We ripped them apart, that We made every living thing from water’ (21:30);
‘And it is We Who have constructed the sky (space) with might, and it is We
Who are steadily expanding it’ (51:47); ‘We shall roll up the skies as a writer
rolls up [his] scrolls. We shall reproduce creation just as We produced it the
first time’ (21:104). The hints whet our appetite and encourage us to venture
forth and discover.
The creation of humankind is not directly related to the period of the cre-
ation of the heavens and the earth. But a connection is definitely made. On a
number of occasions, the Qur’an tells us that humankind is created out of
sounding clay, out of dark slime transmuted, or fetid mud. In other words, we
are formed from the same substance as the earth.
The metaphor of being formed from clay is used repeatedly throughout the
Qur’an. In 55:12 we are told: ‘He has created man out of sounding clay, like
pottery.’ But this origin in the basic substance of the earth is distinct from the
process by which each human being is generated as a living person, which is
referred to in 23:12: ‘Now, Indeed, We create man out of the essence of clay,
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EVOLUTION
and then We cause him to remain as a drop of sperm in [the womb’s] firm keep-
ing, and then We create out of the drop of sperm a germ cell, and then We
create out of the germ cell an embryonic lump and then we create within the
embryonic lump bones, and then we clothe the bones with flesh—and then
we bring [all] this into being as a new creation, hallowed, therefore, is God,
the best of artisans!’
How can we relate these two versions of human creation? It seems to me we
have a metaphor of origins that concentrates on humanity as part of the com-
mon substance of the universe. But the metaphor of clay and mud also has the
implication that the substance of the earth is malleable, that the creation of
humankind was an intentional and purposeful process of shaping and making
in which humanity acquired its specific characteristics, its abilities. Among the
characteristics derived from this origin is the routine process by which each
individual human being comes into existence, the human biological process of
generation.
What I find most striking in the Qur’an’s discussion of human creation is
the sense of process, the repeated ongoing nature of creation which relates the
newest newborn child to the conceptual beginning of human life in the clay
and mud, the materials of earth from which we originate. And this view of
human creation has to be related to the diversity of humankind, including the
diversity of colour and language.
In all the various references to human creation in the Qur’an there is a sense
of motion, of continuous action through time, of creation as constant becom-
ing for each new generation of human beings. We are not presented with a
static portrait of a once and for all event. Rather, creation is presented as a
dynamic, ongoing phenomenon that is constantly evolving and changing.
Indeed, in 71:14 we are specifically asked to reflect on the fact that ‘He has
created you stage by stage’.
This is why Creationism, as formulated by Christian fundamentalists, has
never been a Muslim position in history. As early as the tenth century,
Muhamad al-Nakshbandi, a teacher of religion from central Asia, wrote in The
Book of the Yield: ‘while man has sprung from sentient creatures, these have
sprung from plants, and these in turn from combined substances’ [45]. And
in his philosophical novel Life of Hayy, the twelfth-century Andalusian phi-
losopher ibn Tufayl had his protagonist Hayy ‘spontaneously generated’ from
a mud slime to evolve through various stages into a rational man [46].
It is not surprising, then, that Muslim societies have not witnessed raging
debates about Darwin and Creationism of the kind we have seen in the West.
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When The Origins of Species first appeared in the Ottoman Empire during the
1870s, it was embraced by liberal thinkers. Novelist and publisher Ahmet
Mithat (d.1912) promoted evolution in his works, lawyer Ahmed Suayib
(d.1913) used evolutionary ideas to argue for the development of Turkish
institutions, and philosopher Riza Tevfik (d.1949) declared himself an appren-
tice of Darwin. There were odd reactions to these intellectuals from conserva-
tive quarters, but they were based more on anti-Western sentiments than on a
total rejection of evolution. Throughout most of the twentieth century, evolu-
tion was taken for granted in Muslim societies and was hardly discussed.
But Creationism as an idea reared its ugly head towards the end of the last
century. Its driving force was the American Christian Creation movement,
which built alliances with ultra conservatives in the Muslim world. ‘Islamic
creationism’, as it is known, is also closely associated with the ijaz (‘scientific
miracles of the Qur’an’) literature that I mentioned in the last chapter. Virtu-
ally all the Islamic creationist literature is produced by one man: the Turkish
cult leader Adnan Oktar, aka Haroon Yahya, who has acquired a huge follow-
ing in the more dogmatic circles of the Muslim world. Yahya’s books, such as
the lavishly illustrated 786 pages tome Atlas of Creation [47], blame everything
from Nazism to terrorism on evolution; and are based on, and freely lifted
from, the American creationist literature. They also promote conspiracy theo-
ries and religious paranoia.
However, given the emphasis that the Qur’an gives to systematic and
demonstrative knowledge, dogmatic creationism has no place in Muslim soci-
eties. Indeed, as we have seen, the Qur’an’s position is that science and revela-
tion go hand in hand, both delineating different aspects of the truth. So,
Muslims in general should have no problem with reconciling their belief in
the Qur’an with evolution. It has not been a problem in history; and it should
not be a problem today.
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52
ART, MUSIC AND IMAGINATION
There are no direct references to art and music in the Qur’an. But given the
fact that the Qur’an is the very foundation of Islam, it is not surprising that
the creative spirit of Muslim societies emerges from and rests on the Sacred
Text. Islamic arts, on the whole, are Qur’anic arts: aesthetic expressions that
derive their basis and motivation, seek their goals and implementations, from
the Qur’an.
In 42:11 and 6:103 we see that the Qur’an describes God as the unique,
unchanging and eternal Creator: ‘there is nothing like Him’; and ‘no vision
can take Him in’ (6:103). As such, He is beyond representation, and humans
are incapable of signifying him by any anthropomorphic image. So it makes
sense to argue that the Qur’an does not permit figural representation of God;
but to suggest, as some Muslims do, that this is a ban on all forms of human
representation is an argument too far.
The Qur’an is clear that idols, images of deities, are the ultimate category
mistake: human attempts to encapsulate the idea of God, to reduce the Infinite
within the limitations of human consciousness, to appropriate, possess and
control the idea of deity. The story of the golden calf is repeated a number of
times in the Qur’an as the prime example (2:51; 4:153; 7:148; 20:88; 2:55).
Idols turn people away from the One God and substitute veneration for aspects
of God’s powers and creation. Idols cannot be, and are not, representations of
God; they are indications of a wrong relationship with religion. The Qur’an
constantly reveals the nature of God through His attributes, which we must
stretch our understanding to comprehend and endeavour to worship by
approximating and applying in our lives. The purpose of religion is to expand
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human consciousness, to be fully and continually aware of what is beyond the

limitations of our created nature. The existence of God is the imperative to
stretch our imagination and understanding of the Infinite.
Not surprisingly, Islamic art traditionally shuns figural representation of
God. Instead, focusing on the fact that God is Infinite, Islamic art tends to be
abstract and aims to create the impression of infinity and transcendence. So in
a variety of plastic arts we see the play of geometric outlines: lines transformed
into patterns, patterns combined into modules, modules combined to produce
larger motifs, and repeated endlessly to produce movement. Combination and
repetition—which, as we have seen, are central to the structure of the Qur’an
itself—go on ad infinitum to generate an intuition of infinity, that which is
beyond space and time [48]. Such aesthetic expressions can be seen in ara-
besques, witnessed on carpets, walls and furniture, and are the inspiration for
design elements of architecture from the conception of buildings to the deco-
rative detail of their interior, such as architraves or ceramic wall tiles [49].
A logical consequence of the importance of the words of the Qur’an is the
development of calligraphy: representation of words as an art form. Primarily
calligraphy uses the verses of the Qur’an itself to communicate the feeling of
reverence and awe through line, shape, colour and movement—and transform
word into art. Various styles of writing Arabic developed, which were used in
the calligraphy of verses, expressions such as Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim
(in the name of God, the Beneficent, the Merciful) or even the word ‘Allah’,
and made into adornments for objects, as pictures and plaques and even
worked into the decorative detail of buildings [50]. Calligraphy becomes an
aesthetic which encourages Muslims to read their environment through the
words of the Qur’an, to move from the line and form of the word to the obser-
vation of the world, and thus fulfil the frequently repeated exhortation in the
Qur’an to open our eyes to appreciate the ayat, the signs, of God in nature and
the operation of His creation.
The Qur’an has repeated metaphorical descriptions of paradise, vivid word
pictures of a place replete with gardens, fountains and pavilions, the very epit-
ome of beauty, which have played an important part in Islamic art. These
descriptions and evocations have inspired paintings, miniatures and architec-
ture. Paradise is invoked in the construction of the Alhambra in Granada. The
art of making gardens was practised by the Moguls in the Indian subcontinent.
The idea of a garden was internalised within the construction of traditional
houses built around inner courtyard gardens with fountains, which can still be
found in what is left of traditional cities such as Old Jeddah and Cairo. The
364
notion of khalifa (trusteeship), a central theme of the Qur’an, also played an

important part both in architecture and city planning. The emphasis on pres-
ervation of nature is all too evident in traditional cities like Fez and Aleppo.
In this way an aesthetic becomes practical art, interwoven in a way of living,
from city planning down to the form and decoration of household utensils, a
reflection of humanity’s trusteeship of the natural world and responsibility for
prudential guardianship [51]. Elegance and beauty, grace and design become
not ends in themselves but means to live out and reflect in myriad ways upon
the constant presence of the Infinite.
There are, however, some Muslim purists who reject all forms of art, and
argue that the Qur’an bans any kind of representation—full stop. Since God
‘gave everything its perfect form’ (32:7), the argument goes, mortals should
avoid trying to copy His perfection. But this nonsensical argument assumes
that an artist is imitating God, rather than seeking to explore, understand and
reflect on his creation. There are some Muslims who accept traditional abstract
arts grudgingly; for them the totality of Islamic art must be abstract with no
figurative representation. The puritans also argue that music is forbidden in
Islam and should not be allowed in Muslim societies. I must admit I find such
proclamations to be mad and inhuman. Such dumbfounding and absurd inter-
pretations not only kill imagination but are life-denying and undermine what
makes us truly human. The Qur’an provides us with the best description of
such people, for they have ‘hearts they do not use for comprehension, eyes they
do not use for seeing, and ears they do not use for hearing. They are like cattle,
no, even further astray: these are the ones who are entirely heedless’ (7:179).
Fortunately, the ‘heedless’ ones had little effect on the artistic practices of
Muslim societies in history. Figurative representations are dominant in Persian
miniatures, often used in illustrations of books, both literary and scientific,
and of course portraits not just of kings and sultans but also poets, writers and
painters. All this, I think, has immensely enriched Islam’s contribution to art,
as well as shaping a distinctive Islamic aesthetic of figural representation.
Music too has played a distinctive role in Muslim history. Indeed, to be a
Muslim, I would argue, is to have a natural love of music. It cannot be other-
wise: as Muslims we constantly hear the Qur’an, whose aesthetic dimension is
expressed through sound—by recitation. Both melody and vocal ornamenta-
tion are beautifully presented in Qur’anic recitation; and, to a lesser form in
the adhan, the call to prayer. So Muslims are constantly surrounded by sacred
music. I must confess that a beautiful recitation, indeed a good adhan, has a
deep emotional impact on me. That is why I cannot live without my music:
‘music of the past, and music of the future’ [52].
365
The Qur’an does not refer to music directly; but we do find indirect men-
tion of music. When talking about Prophet David, God tells us he had ‘been
taught the speech of birds’ (27:16). This melodious voice and ability to sing
was a special ‘favour’ of God; and David used his gift to sing the praises of
God. But he did not sing alone; for God said: ‘You mountains, echo God’s
praises together with him, and you birds, too’ (34:10). So when David sang,
the valleys truly came alive with the sound of music, with mountains joining
him in glorifying God ‘at sunset and sunrise; and the birds, too, in flocks, all
echoed his praise’ (38:18). The Prophet Muhammad followed David and is
known to have played music both at his own and his daughter’s weddings.
Despite this, some classical scholars, particularly the legal-minded, sought
to ban music. Then, as now, 31:6 and 17:64 are used to argue for the ban. In
31:6, which reads ‘there is the sort of person who pays for distracting tales,
intending, without any knowledge, to lead others from God’s way, and to hold
it up to ridicule’, the words ‘distracting tales’ were interpreted to mean music.
Similarly, ‘voice’ in the verse ‘entice whichever you can with your voice’ (17:64)
was described as singing and music, and associated with the work of Satan.
This interpretation is, of course, skating on very thin ice. The first verse refers
to those who mock the Qur’an with word play. The second verse occurs in a
passage where Iblis is refusing to submit to Adam—‘Shall I submit to whom
You have created out of dust’ (17:61)—and refers to the voice of Satan. The
‘voice’ here signifies all kinds of desire and temptation and has no reference to
music whatsoever. Perhaps this is why most anti-music arguments come from
fabricated and dubious Hadith, or sayings of the Prophet.
But such absurd interpretations, and the condemnation of music associated
with them, were and are rightly ignored by Muslim people. Indeed, the Sufi
mystics gave a privileged position to music and placed it at the heart of all their
ceremonies. Sufi music is in fact an integral part of Islam. Many great philoso-
phers of Islam, including al-Kindi (d.866), al-Farabi (d.950) and ibn Sina
(d.1037), wrote profusely on the theory of music and encouraged its perfor-
mance. Al-Kindi, for example, argued that music can change our ethical quali-
ties and turn anger into calm, grief into joy, depression into a state of relaxation,
rage into friendliness, avarice into generosity and cowardice into bravery [53].
The other major Muslim art is poetry. Poetry was the traditional art form
of the Arabs, and the Qur’an notes that Muhammad was seen by many people
as a mad poet, rather than a messenger of God. Such slight references again
explain why traditional purists condemn poetry as arrogant human presump-
tion, motivated by the Qur’an’s challenge to unbelievers of the impossibility
366
of producing a text comparable to its poetry. Nevertheless, poetry, the search

for concision in use of words to express emotion, ideas and feeling, has been a
major creative force in Islamic history. Indeed, poetry has been a key instru-
ment for unleashing the religious imagination, for going beyond reason in
unveiling the truth and discovering what it means to be human. It remains a
vibrant art form across the Muslim world, a popular oral art form enjoyed by
the majority, rather than the preserve of the elite.
To read the Qur’an is to unleash one’s imagination, to be surrounded by its
sounds and imagery, to lose one’s self in the Infinite. Inasmuch as God is
‘within us’, exploring the Infinite with our imagination is a part of our fitra, or
innate nature. As such, imagination is in fact a form of knowing. It is knowing
from being: what in Muslim tradition is sometimes called the ‘expansion of
the bosom’, a way of connecting with your inner self, your fitra, and thus realis-
ing the beauty and grace of God. As al-Ghazali (d.1111), the celebrated Mus-
lim philosopher and theologian, said, ‘anyone who thinks that the unveiling
of truth depends (only) on carefully formulated proofs has indeed placed the
abundant mercy of God under restraint’ [54]. Reason guides us to truth; but
it is imagination that teaches us the appreciation of truth and how it touches
and transforms us as human beings.
Each Muslim country has its own tradition of unleashing imagination, of
music, poetry, literature, art, dance and theatre; and all take their inspiration,
directly or indirectly, from the Qur’an. In creative arts, as in everything else,
the Qur’an’s overall message is of balance and moderation. The function of art
in Islam is to provide objects of aesthetic contemplation that generate an intu-
ition of the truth, give meaning and purpose to our lives and force us to think
about ourselves and our society. Aesthetic, reflective beauty is not something
that has to be confined to rarefied objects we call ‘art’; it is something that can
be transmitted equally through common objects such as plates, lamps, candle-
sticks, vases, doors and windows. A work of art is, in Islamic parlance, some-
thing to wonder about. It points the viewer not towards what God is not, but
what God is.
Perhaps this is why the ‘Verse of Light’ (24:35), which describes God in a
series of metaphors, is the most used verse in the Qur’an for unleashing the
religious imagination. It has inspired great epic poems, calligraphy, artefacts
and cultural products. Each metaphor in the verse has produced a trajectory
of its own, leading the believers to explore new heights of imagination. The
light that God casts in our bosom is the key to unleashing the full flight of our
imagination:
367
God is the light of the heavens and the earth.

The simile of God’s light is like a niche in which is a lamp,
The lamp in a glass,
The glass like a shimmering star,
Kindled from a blessed tree,
An olive, neither of the East nor of the West,
Its oil almost aglow, though untouched by fire.
Light upon light.
368
EPILOGUE
Reading the Qur’an is a demanding but a rewarding experience. As I said at

the outset, it requires effort; although the endeavour has turned out to be a
little more taxing than I expected. I must also admit to considerable intellec-
tual pleasure along the way. So what have I discovered?
The Qur’an is a dynamic, interconnected text. It does not present a static
view of society; but actively encourages change, evolution, progress, and asks
us constantly to adjust to change. But to discover the underlying dynamics of
the Qur’an one needs to do much more than simply read its verses in isolation
and assume that what the verse says is all there is. One needs to connect one
segment of the text to the next, and many other segments throughout the
Sacred Text. Movement becomes visible when these connections are made, and
a whole new dynamic of meaning emerges. The meaning evolves, develops and
changes the more connections are made and the more we see the Qur’an as an
integrated text.
We find some contradictions in the Qur’an but, as I have argued, they serve
a special purpose. They point us toward directions and connections we are not
used to considering. They tell us that the world itself and all that is in it, the
creation of God, is complex, full of contradictions and not amenable to sim-
plistic analyses of situations and problems. They suggest that choices we make
always involve oppositions, and any moral choice requires us to think seriously
about intended and unintended consequences. They express a general way of
looking at the world, incorporating complexity and change as natural and
essential.
Context is everything in the Qur’an. It is an eternal text; but it is also a text
revealed in history, over 1,400 years ago, to a Prophet who lived in the Arabian
society of the seventh century. In as far as it is a commentary on the life of the
Prophet, a revelation that seeks to guide him through an eventful life, it
369
addresses and seeks to change the moral, social and cultural conditions of that
period. But, of course, as a religious text the Qur’an is also a source of guidance
for Muslims everywhere at all times. However, to understand the overall mes-
sage of the Qur’an we must start by taking seriously the time and place of rev-
elation, the days of Prophet Muhammad and his society and background.
Learning as much as possible about the language, customs, circumstances and
personalities at the time of revelation has heightened my sense of the distinc-
tion between what I think is specific and that which I find universal and time-
less. Locating the time-bound detail, I have discovered, is essential for releasing
the universal and timeless, which makes the Qur’an relevant and alive in my
time and in relation to my problems. To understand the context of verses that
I had read numerous times, and whose meaning I took for granted, is nothing
short of enlightening.
To be a believer is to see the Qur’an as a living book. But this is not just a
definition of a believer; it is also a statement about belief. What it means is
that I, unlike those who see it as a fixed text, can never be certain about its
meaning—which changes with changing circumstances. All I can do is inter-
pret the Sacred Text, using my own reasoning and knowledge. But in the end
I have to give the Qur’an the benefit of the doubt—my doubt that I have a
complete grasp of what it is saying.
It is doubt and open-mindedness that keeps the text alive and capable of
revealing its relevance through different situations and circumstances. The
moment a reader thinks that he or she possesses the capacity for full compre-
hension and total judgement, the text of the Qur’an starts to shrink and con-
forms to prejudices and predilections. As the celebrated Muslim thinker
al-Ghazali suggested, the best way to read the Qur’an is by freeing the mind
of all dogma, interpretations and commentaries—these limit and condition
our understanding of the Qur’an [1]. We may also sometimes have to reject
the obvious, outward exegesis and literal meaning to get a deeper appreciation
of what the Qur’an is trying to say to us. An open text, with an eternal message,
demands an open mind, ready to engage with all possibilities.
However, open engaging minds are not the hallmark of the contemporary
Muslim world. Indeed, a couple of observations stand out quite clearly. First,
Muslim society in our time seems to bear no relationship to the eternal mes-
sage of the Qur’an. The Qur’an’s emphasis on justice and equity, truth and
plurality, ethics and morality, humanity and diversity, reason and knowledge,
rights and duties, and reading and writing—what I see as the main themes of
the Sacred Text—are nowhere reflected in the contemporary Muslim world.
370
EPILOGUE
On the contrary, injustice and inequity, ignorance and illiteracy, oppression

and inhumanity seem to be the norms. This is particularly evident in societies
which claim most loudly that the Qur’an has a special place in their legal,
political, social or cultural framework.
The second observation is related to the first. A great deal of what is justified
nowadays on the basis of the Qur’an—from autocracy to theocracy, suppres-
sion of freedom of expression, obscene accumulation of wealth to gross ineq-
uity, oppression of women to the denial of rights to minorities, exclusive
ownership of truth to suicide bombing—has no relationship to the Sacred Text
whatsoever. The more that people use the Qur’an to justify their age-old cus-
toms and traditions, obnoxious behaviour and violent actions, it seems to me,
the further they are from the spirit of the Sacred Text. For Muslims, the dis-
tinctive feature of contemporary times is the sheer abuse of all they supposedly
believe to be sacred.
My reading of the Qur’an has not just brought these observations into
sharper focus, but made me realise just how anchored Muslims are in unjust
interpretations of history. While I emphasise the historical context of the
Qur’an, in fact I read it without history—leaving out the time between the
Prophet and myself. Indeed, I am open to the accusation that I have offered an
ahistorical reading of the Qur’an. I have not tried to read the Qur’an through
the traditions of interpretation in which I was raised, of which I am aware, and
by which my day-to-day life as an ordinary Muslim has been and is shaped.
Unwittingly, this has turned out to be a good rather than a bad thing. With-
out the weight of tradition, I have encountered the Qur’an anew. Moreover,
by reading the Qur’an on its own terms, by largely ignoring classical commen-
taries, I discovered that a great deal of historic interpretation has taken Muslim
societies in the wrong direction. Muslim attitudes to women, apostasy, other
religions, freedom of expression, democracy, morality and ethics, the delusion
that the Shari‘a is divine, are all firmly anchored in dim and distant history
where great jurists supposedly gave unalterable opinions and interpretations.
However relevant these interpretations may have been in history, they have
little or no relevance today. Indeed, a contemporary reading of the Qur’an
reveals many historic rulings and interpretations to be diametrically opposed
to the actual teachings of the Qur’an. I always suspected this. But to see it
unfold, as I read and interpreted various verses and passages for myself, has
been nothing short of a revelation.
The Qur’an invites us not to look backwards but to see ahead. History in
the Qur’an provides narratives of caution, seminal lessons in hubris and folly.
371
These serve as building blocks for the future. The Qur’an seeks to guide and
change individual and social behaviour and transform society—things that can
only be accomplished in the future.
There are three vital future lessons I have drawn from my reading. In inter-
preting the Qur’an, we must differentiate between legal requirements and
moral injunctions. Muslim tradition sees the Qur’an as a book of law, rather
than the source of principles for the making of laws. The Qur’an seeks to build
a moral society, not a legalistic one. A legalistic society, as we see in countries
where the Shari‘a has been imposed, does not necessarily uphold moral virtues.
And laws, even those supposedly derived from the Qur’an, need not be just,
equitable and ethical. Only by specifically addressing the moral and ethical
outlook of the Qur’an will Muslims be able to address the urgent issues of con-
temporary times, such as women’s rights, freedom of expression and the devel-
opment of civic society.
As we have seen, legal injunctions in the Qur’an are relatively few; and most
of them are quite specific and specifically time-bound. Yet, behind each legal
injunction is a principle which, as we have discovered, can be understood in
its historic context and set in motion through time. It is the principle that is
paramount. The specific legal injunction, or law, provides an example of how
that principle was realised during the life of the Prophet Muhammad in the
context of seventh-century Arabia. When the context changes or the law ceases
to reflect the principle, the law must be changed. Indeed, if the law is not
changed it will inevitably end by violating the principle. There are legal injunc-
tions in the Qur’an—for example, those relating to crime and punishment and
female witnesses—that are deeply rooted in the context of the time of revela-
tion. These legal injunctions made sense within their context; they are specific
and not eternal. We need to develop new laws based on the eternal principles
behind these injunctions, which will actually promote their principles. It makes
no sense, for example, to punish people on the basis of a seventh-century penal
system when we have prisons and other correctional facilities; or for women
to wait for four months before remarrying after the death of their husbands
when we have tests to determine whether they are pregnant; or to assume that
in the contemporary world women are less capable of handling business and
financial matters than men. The challenge of understanding the Qur’an is to
understand it in our own time, to relate the principles the Sacred Text exhorts
to our own conditions.
It is also necessary, I think, to ask relevant questions. If you approach the
Qur’an with the view that it has nothing to say to you, that it is an outdated
372
EPILOGUE
historic text, then the questions you will ask will yield nothing of importance.
If it is interrogated with a view to finding faults, then your questions echo your
own prejudices. Believers are not immune, I would argue; they too need to ask
questions of significance and value. It is not productive to ask what the Qur’an
says about this or that specific subject; much more fruitful is to ask how one
can draw moral guidance from the Sacred Text on particular issues that are of
concern to us. To produce genuine insight, we need a higher order of ques-
tions: not what the Qur’an says about individual behaviour, but what can we
learn from the Qur’an about combining individual fulfilment with individual
acceptance of social responsibilities; to ask not just what the Qur’an says about
justice, but rather what guidance it offers on reducing injustice; to ask not just
what the Qur’an says about freedom of expression, but rather what it teaches
about managing debate and dissent in a complex society, increasingly vulner-
able to disruptions; to ask not just what the Qur’an says about establishing
peace, but also what guidance it provides about peaceful social change. Sim-
plistic questions generate simplistic answers; complex questions would lead to
a more holistic and deeper understanding of the Sacred Text.
Reading the Qur’an, I have come to realise, is not a one-dimensional, reduc-
tive act. Rather, it is a process, involving synthesis, looking for interconnec-
tions, discovering context, wrestling with contradictions, and asking complex
questions. And one should not limit oneself to traditional modes of exegesis.
One needs to use any relevant method that enhances understanding. An eter-
nal text, by definition, is open to all methods of reading.
So, with new determination, I say that we Muslims have to teach ourselves
to read and think about the Qur’an, liberated from the weight of tradition and
classical commentaries. Tradition has come to mean following what previous
generations thought and have said about the Qur’an: a process perpetuated by
religious scholars who claim sole authority to interpret the Qur’an. We need
to read and think for ourselves, rather than simply repeat. Muslim scholars and
experts should not be gatekeepers, permanently excluding the rest from using
their own knowledge and insight to make sense of the Qur’an for themselves.
Such power raises traditional scholars above the Sacred Text itself.
My fellow Muslims will raise an obvious question. If we liberate the Qur’an
for personal interpretation, what happens to consensus? How do we, in the
face of diverse personal readings, arrive at collective judgements? We do so not
only by reading and thinking, but also by inclusive debate. Consensus is not
something that can be imposed from above, by a select group of scholars. It
emerges from below, through open discussion and debate about meaning and
373
relevance. When we accept the Qur’an as nothing more than a given set of dos
and don’ts there is no debate and we make our faith less and less relevant to
the world in which we live.
Of course, there is a possibility, the inevitable nagging doubt, the self-critical
reflection that I got everything wrong. In which case, I seek refuge in the words
of the Qur’an itself: ‘You will not be blamed if you make a mistake, only for
what your hearts deliberately intend, God is most forgiving and merciful’ (33:
5). I hope my intention is clear and I have made a small contribution to the
permanent work in progress that is human engagement with the living
Qur’an.
374
pp. [ix–16]
NOTES AND REFERENCES
PREFACE
1. Harold Bloom, The Western Canon: The Books and Schools of the Ages, Harcourt,
Brace and Company, New York, 1994, p. 531.
PROLOGUE
1. Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an, Bibliotheca Islamica, Chicago, 1980,
p. xi.
2. Ziauddin Sardar, The Future of Muslim Civilisation, Croom Helm, London, 1979;
second edition, Mansell, London, 1987.
3. Al-Ghazali, The Jewels of the Qur’an, edited by Laleh Bakhtiar, Great Books of the
Islamic World, Chicago, 2009, p. 11.
4. Ibn Rushd concludes his monumental defence of rationality, and attack on al-
Ghazali, with these words. Averroes’ Tahafut al-Tahafut (The Incoherence of the In-
coherence), translated by Simon van den Berch, Luzac, London, 1978; one-volume
edition of the original two-volume 1954 version, p. 363.
PART ONE
1. Our regular visits to Indian movies did have their virtues! See Ziauddin Sardar,
‘Dilip Kumar Made Me Do It’ in Ashis Nandy (editor), The Secret Politics of Our
Desires, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1998; Zed Press, London, 1998.
2. For a more detailed account, see my intellectual autobiography, Desperately Seeking
Paradise: Journeys of a Sceptical Muslim, Granta Books, London, 2004.
3. Sayyid Qutb, In the Shade of the Qur’an, translated by M. Adil Salahi and Ashur A.
Shamis, MWH London publishers, London, 1979, volume 30, p. 301.
4. Ebrahim Moosa, ‘Inside the Madrasa’, Boston Review, January/February 2007.
5. Mahir-ul-Qaderi, ‘Lament of the Qur’an’, translated from Urdu by Latif Choudry,
The Muslim, December 1969, p. 58.
6. M. M. Al-Azami provides a detailed account of how the final text was produced in
The History of the Qur’anic Text from Revelation to Compilation, UK Islamic Acad-
emy, Leicester, 2003.
375
pp. [16–40] NOTES
7. This view is associated with P. Crone and M. Cook, Hagarism: The Making of the
Islamic World, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1977; and J. Wansbrough,
Qur’anic Studies: Sources and Method of Scriptural Interpretation, Oxford Univer-
sity Press, Oxford, 1977.
8. See Mustansir Mir, Coherence in the Qur’an, American Trust Publications, India-
napolis, 1986.
9. Penguin, London, 1989.
10. See Neal Robinson, Discovering the Qur’an: A Contemporary Approach to a Veiled
Text, SCM Press, London, 1996.
11. Students of science will appreciate this. I read physics at university and discovered
that most of the physics I had learned during my schools days was so simplified
that it was of little use in my undergraduate work.
12. Mona Siddiqui, How to Read the Qur’an, Granta Books, London, 2007, p. 103.
13. Farid Esack, The Qur’an: A User’s Guide, Oneworld Publications, Oxford, 2005,
pp. 1–10.
14. Mahmoud Ayoub, The Qur’an and Its Interpreters, State University of New York
Press, Albany, 1984. I have used volume 1 quite extensively for this study.
15. Feras Hamza and Sajjad Rizvi with Farhana Mayer, An Anthology of Qur’anic Com-
mentaries, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2008, volume 1.
16. For a more detailed analysis of these films see Ziauddin Sardar, Orientalism, Open
University Press, Milton Keynes, 1999, pp. 95–106.
17. See Bruce Lawrence (editor), Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin
Laden, Verso, London, 2005.
18. Fazlur Rahman, ‘Interpreting the Qur’an’, Inquiry, May 1986, p. 45.
19. Ibid., p. 46.
20. Abdullah Saeed, Interpreting the Qur’an, Routledge, London, 2006.
21. See Ziauddin Sardar, ‘Paper, Printing and Compact Discs: The Making and Un-
making of Islamic Culture’, Media, Culture, Society, 15, 1992, pp. 43–59.
22. Sayyed Abdul Hasan Ali Nawdi, Studying the Glorious Qur’an, UK Islamic Acad-
emy, Leicester, 2003, p. 84. The Maulana is addressing the pious who are into
‘hearing and obeying’ and goes on to suggest that ‘fear’ and ‘belief in the unseen’
are essential for understanding the Qur’an.
23. Asma Barlas, ‘Believing Women’ in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations
of the Qur’an, University of Texas Press, Austin, 2002, p. xii.
24. Quoted by A. L. Tibawi, ‘Is the Qur’an Translatable? Early Muslim Opinion’ in
Arabic and Islamic Themes, Luzac, London, 1976, pp. 78–9.
25. Fatawa al-Imam Muhammad Rashid Rida, Dar al-Kitab al-Jadid, Beirut, 1970,
vol. 2, pp. 642–50.
26. M. M. Pickthall, The Meaning of the Glorious Koran, New American Library, New
York, 1930, ‘Translator’s Foreword’.
27. A. J. Arberry, The Koran Interpreted, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1964,
p. x.
376
NOTES pp. [41–48]
28. Tibawi, op. cit., p. 83.

29. Mahmoud Ayoub, ‘Translating the Meaning of the Qur’an: Traditional Opinion
and Modern Debates’, Inquiry, May 1996, p. 38.
30. A recent example is the declaration of British author Sebastian Faulks: ‘it is a de-
pressing book. It really is. It’s just the rantings of a schizophrenic. It’s very one-
dimensional, and people talk about the beauty of Arabic and so on, but the Eng-
lish translation I read was, from a literary point of view, very disappointing. There
is also the barrenness of the message. I mean, there are some bits about diet…With
the Qur’an there are no stories. And it has no ethical dimension like the New Tes-
tament, no new plan for life.’ Cathy Galvin, ‘The author of our misfortunes’, Sun-
day Times Magazine, 23 August 2009, pp. 23–4.
31. See Mohammad Khalifa, The Sublime Qur’an and Orientalism, Longman, London,
1983.
32. The complete title of Ross’s translation: The Alcoran of Mahomet / Translated out
of Arabique into French by the Sieur Du Ryer, Lord of Malezair, and resident for the
King of France at Alexandria; and newly Englished [by Alexander Ross] for the sat-
isfaction of all that desire to look into the Turkish vanities, London, 1649.
33. George Sale, Koran, commonly called the Alcoran of Mohammed, translated into
English immediately from the original Arabic; with explanatory notes, taken from
the most approved commentators. To which is prefixed a preliminary discourse,
London, 1734, p. vii.
34. Khalifa, op. cit., p. 44.
35. Constantin François Chasée-Beouf Volney, Oeuvres Complètes, Paris, 1860.
36. Charles M. Doughty, Travels in Arabia Deserta, Dover, New York, 1979; facsim-
ile of original 1888 edition; volume 1, p. 142.
37. Thomas Carlyle, On Heroes, Hero-worship and the Heroic in History, Cassell, Lon-
don, 1891, p. 42.
38. Ibid., p. 57.
39. Zaid Elmarsafy, The Enlightenment Qur’an, Oneworld Publications, Oxford, 2009,
pp. 81–120.
40. Arberry, op. cit., p. xiii.
41. Pickthall states categorically: ‘The Koran cannot be translated. That is the belief
of old-fashioned Sheykhs and the view of the present writer’, op. cit.
42. A moving account of his life is provided by M. A. Sherif, Searching for Solace: A
Biography of Abdullah Yusuf Ali Interpreter of the Qur’an, Islamic Book Trust,
Kuala Lumpur, 1994.
43. See, for example, the ‘revised and edited in modern English’ version of Pickthall’s
translations by Arafat K. El-Ashi, Amana, Beltsville, 1996.
44. Abdullah Yusuf Ali, The Holy Qur’an: Text, Translation and Commentary, Dar al
Arabia, Beirut, 1968, p. v.
45. The Holy Qur’an: English Translation of Meanings and Commentary, Revised and
Edited by the Presidency of Islamic Researches, IFTA, Call and Guidance, King
377
pp. [48–80] NOTES
Fahd Holy Qur’an Printing Complex, Riyadh. The translation is not dated; but
the Royal Decree, ‘The Custodian of the two Holy Mosques King Fahd ibn Abdul
Aziz Al-Saud, King of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, has the honour to order the
printing of this Holy Qur’an and the translation of its meaning and commentary’),
no. 12412, is dated 27/10/1405. The quote is from p. viii.
46. Muhammad Taqi-ud-Din Al-Hilali and Muhammad Muhsin Khan, Interpretation
of the Meanings of the Noble Qur’an, Darussalam, Riyadh, 2007.
47. S. V. Ahmad Ali, The Holy Qur’an with English Translation and Commentary ac-
cording to the version of the Holy Ahlul Bait. With special notes from Ayatullah Agha
Haji Mirza Mahdi Pooya Yazdi, Karachi, 1964, p. 47.
48. Qur’an: A Reformist Translation, translated and annotated by Edip Yuksel, Layth
Saleh al-Shaiban and Martha Schulte-Nafey, Brainbowpress.com, 2007.
49. Rashad Khalifa, The Computer Speaks: God’s Message to the World, Islamic Produc-
tions International, Tucson, 1980.
50. Muhammad Asad, Sahih al-Bukhari: The Early Years of Islam, Dar Al-Andalus,
Gibraltar, 1981; reprint of original 1938 edition.
51. Muhammad Asad, The Road to Mecca, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1954.
52. Muhammad Asad, The Message of the Qur’an, Dar Al-Andalus, Gibraltar, 1980,
p. viii.
53. M. A. S. Abdel Haleem, The Qur’an: A New Translation, Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 2004, p.ix.
54. Tarif Khalidi, The Qur’an: A New Translation, Penguin, London, 2008, pp. x–xi.
PART TWO
1. Shaykh Muhammad al-Ghazali, A Thematic Commentary on the Qur’an, translated
by Ashore Shamis, International Institute of Islamic Thought, Herndon, 2000,
p. 3.
2. Sayyid Abul Ala Mawdudi, Towards Understanding the Qur’an, translated by Zafar
Ishaq Ansari, Islamic Foundation, Leicester, 1988, p. 37.
3. Tafsir al-Qurtubi: Classical Commentary of the Holy Qur’an, translated by Aisha
Bewley, Dar al-Taqwa, London, 2003, p. 125.
4. Mahmoud Ayoub, The Qur’an and Its Interpreters, State University of New York
Press, Albany, 1984, p. 49.
5. Ibid., p. 53.
6. All these characteristics are clearly evident in Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion,
Black Swan, London, 2006 and Christopher Hitchens, God is Not Great, Atlantic
Books, London, 2007. See also the elegant response of Karen Armstrong, The Case
for God, Bodley Head, London, 2009 and Tina Beattie, The New Atheists, Darton,
Longman and Todd, London, 2007.
7. Muhammad Asad, The Message of the Qur’an, Dar al-Andalus, Gibraltar, 1980, note
10, p. 5.
378
NOTES pp. [112–201]
8. Sayyid Qutb, In the Shade of the Qur’an, translated by Adil Salahi and Ashur
Shamis, Islamic Foundation, Leicester, 1999, p. 175.
9. Asad, op. Cit., pp. 34–5, note 137.
10. Khuda Ke Liye, directed by Shoaib Mansoor, released in 2007.
11. Al-Khwarazni’s Algebra, Pakistan Hijra Council, Islamabad, 1989.
12. An interesting parallel is provided by Ashis Nandy, The Intimate Enemy: Loss and
Recovery of Self Under Colonialism, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1983, who
argues that colonisation brutalised both the colonised and the colonisers.
13. Qutb, op. cit., p. 270.
14. Ibid., p. 273.
15. Mawdudi, op. cit., p. 153.
16. The Autobiography of Malcolm X, as told to Alex Haley, Penguin, London, 1965.
17. Merryl Wyn Davies, Knowing One Another: Shaping an Islamic Anthropology,
Mansell, London, 1988, pp. 131–2.
18. Asad, op. cit., p. 50, note 216.
Oxford, 2004, p. 25.
20. See Janice Delaney, Mary Jane Lupton and Emily Toth, The Curse: A Cultural His-
tory of Menstruation, University of Illinois Press, Champaign, 1988; and Elissa
Stein and Susan Kim, Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation, St. Martin’s Grif-
fin, New York, 2009.
21. This is a well-established point in science and development literature; I tried to
show how technological aid increases dependency in Science, Development and the
Muslim World, Croom Helm, London, 1977; see more recent studies, such as Paul
Collier, The Bottom Billion: Why the Poorest Countries are Failing and What Can
Be Done About It, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2008; Dambisa Moyo, Dead
Aid: Why Aid is Not Working and How There is Another Way for Africa, Penguin,
London, 2010; and Amartya Sen, Development as Freedom, Oxford University
Press, Oxford, 2001.
22. George Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh,
1981.
23. Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, translated by C. H. Sisson, Oxford Univer-
sity Press, Oxford, 2008.
24. Hans Wehr, A Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, edited by J. M. Cowan, Otto
Harrassowitz, Wiesbaden, 1979.
25. Asad, op. cit., p. 622, note 35.
26. Ibid.
27. See Ziauddin Sardar, ‘The Language of Equality’, Equality and Human Rights
Commission, London, 2008.
28. After denigrating women in Western society, and singing the virtues of women in
Islam, Muhammad Qutb asks: ‘the demand for treating men and women as equals
379
pp. [102–236] NOTES
in their function in life and the modes of their actual performance is concerned,
can that ever be feasible?’ And answers: ‘that is simply impossible’. See Muhammad
Qutb, Islam: The Misunderstood Religion, Barul Bayan, Kuwait, 1964, p. 190.
Good examples of the traditional misogynist genre are Sayyid Abul Ala Mawdu-
di, Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam, Islamic Publications, Lahore, 1972;
Mohammad Zafeeruddin Nadvi, Modesty and Chastity in Islam, Islamic Book
Publishers, Kuwait, 1982; and the classic text, Perfecting Women: Maulana Ashraf
Ali Thanawis Bihishti Zewar, translated by Barbara Daly Metcalf, Oxford Univer-
sity Press, Delhi, 1992.
PART THREE
1. For a more detailed account see Geoffrey Parrinder, Jesus in the Qur’an, Oneworld
Publications, Oxford, 2003.
2. See the chapter on Eschatology in Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an,
Bibliotheca Islamica, Chicago, 1980.
3. Ibid., p. 81.
4. As for example in the case of The Satanic Verses, and more recently with the Danish
cartoon affair. See Ziauddin Sardar and Merryl Wyn Davies, Distorted Imagination:
Lessons from the Rushdie Affair, Grey Seal, London, 1990; and Jytte Klausen, The
Cartoon That Shook the World, Yale University Press, London, 2009. Klausen argues
that the affair was a political rather than a cultural conflict.
5. It is interesting to note how all the biographies of the Prophet are written in ex-
actly the same way, emphasising the same aspects of his life. See ‘Rewriting the
Seerah’ in Ziauddin Sardar, Islamic Futures: The Shape of Ideas to Come, Mansell,
London, 1985.
6. A. Guillaume, The Life of Muhammad: A Translation of Ibn Ishaq’s Sirat Rasul Allah,
Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1955.
7. Although it is not surprising that early Muslim historians saw history in less dy-
namic ways. See Nisar Ahmed Faruqi, Early Muslim Historiography, Idarah-I Ad-
abiyat-I Delli, Delhi, 1979.
8. See the excellent Richard Fletcher, Moorish Spain, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London,
1992; and the more detailed two-volume survey, The Legacy of Muslim Spain, Brill,
Leiden, edited by Salma Khadra Jayyusi, not dated.
9. Normal Daniel’s classic studies provide an excellent account of the relationship
between Christianity and Islam: Islam, Europe and Empire, Edinburgh University
Press, Edinburgh, 1966; Arabs and Medieval Europe, Longman, London, 1979;
Heroes and Saracens, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh, 1984; Islam and the
West, Oneworld Publications, Oxford, 1993 (original edition, 1960); for a concise
account see Ziauddin Sardar, Orientalism, Open University Press, Milton Keynes,
1999.
380
NOTES pp. [237–261]
10. See Mahmood Ahmad Ghazi, The Islamic Renaissance in South Asia (1707–1867):
The role of Shah Waliullah and his successors, Adam Publishers, 2004.
11. Merryl Wyn Davies used this verse to develop a model of Islamic anthropology;
see her Knowing One Another: Shaping an Islamic Anthropology, Mansell, London,
1988.
12. For a contemporary perspective see Abdou Filali-Ansary and Sikeena Karmali
Ahmed (editors), The Challenge of Pluralism: Paradigms from Muslim Contexts,
Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh, 2009.
13. The line occurs in Jean-Paul Sartre’s 1944 play, No Exit.
14. Anwar Ibrahim argues that the umma now includes all the marginalised and op-
pressed people of the world. See his essay ‘The Ummah and Tomorrow’s World’,
Futures 23 (3), April 1991, pp. 302–10.
15. See Hammudah Abd al-Ati, The Family Structure in Islam, American Trust Pub-
lications, Indianapolis, 1997.
16. For a fascinating account of how reason, beyond simple logic, can be a source of
values and morality and shaped the ethical tradition of Muslim societies, see
George Hourani’s collection of papers in Reason and Tradition in Islamic Ethics,
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1985.
17. See Jurgen Habermas, The Theory of Communicative Action, Vol. 1: Reason and the
Rationalization of Society, translated by T. McCarthy, Beacon Press, Boston,
1984.
18. There were over 500 definitions of ‘ilm during the classical period of Muslim civili-
sation, most explained and explored by Franz Rosenthal, Knowledge Triumphant:
The Concept of Knowledge in Medieval Islam, Brill, Leiden, 1970.
19. For the dire state of knowledge in Muslim societies, see The Arab Human Develop-
ment Report 2003: Building a Knowledge Society, Cairo, 2003; for a more general
exploration, see Ziauddin Sardar (editor), An Early Crescent: The Future of Knowl-
edge and the Environment in Islam, Mansell, London, 1989.
Oxford, 2004, p. xviii.
21. See Tahir Wasti, The Application of Islamic Criminal Law in Pakistan: Sharia in
Practice, Brill, Leiden, 2009.
22. Abdel Haleem, op. cit., p. 20. For an explanation of how qisas came to shape Is-
lamic law see Yasin Datton, The Origins of Islamic Law, Routledge, London,
2002.
23. For an alternative view see Wael B. Hallaq, An Introduction to Islamic Law, Cam-
bridge University Press, Cambridge, 2009.
24. This and subsequent citations are from the Universal Declaration of Human
Rights: http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/index.shtml
25. For a general comparison see Masood A. Baderin, International Human Rights
and Islamic Law, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2005.
381
pp. [262–285] NOTES
26. The details of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights can be found at: http://www2.ohchr.org/english/law/cescr.htm
27. Ziauddin Sardar, Postmodernism and the Other, Pluto Press, London, 1998, Chap-
ter 2, ‘The joy of cynical power’.
28. For a more detailed discussion, see Ziauddin Sardar (editor), The Touch of Midas:
Science, Values and the Environment in Islam and the West, Manchester Univer-
sity Press, Manchester, 1982.
29. St. Augustine, The City of God, Penguin Classic, London, 2003.
30. Francis Bacon, Advancement of Learning, with an Introduction by Stephen Jay
Gould, Modern Library Classics, New York, 2001.
31. For an elaboration of this argument see Abdullah Naseef, ‘Dawa: Planning Beyond
Disasters’ in Merryl Wyn Davies and Adnan Khalil Pasha, Beyond Frontiers: Islam
and Contemporary Needs, Mansell, London, 1989.
32. ‘Disputes Between Animals and Man’ has been translated as The Island of Animals
by Denys Johnson Davies, Quartet Books, London, 1994.
33. See the brilliant Titus Burckhardt, Fez: The City of Islam, Islamic Text Society,
Cambridge, 1992.
34. There are numerous translations of Sadi, for example, The Gulistan of Sadi, trans-
lated by Edward B. Eastwick, Octagon Press, London, 1979; and The Bustan,
translated by H. Wilberforce Clarke, Darf, London, 1985.
35. Farid al Din Attar, Conference of the Birds, Penguin Classic, London, 2005.
36. Kenneth Cragg, Readings from the Qur’an, Collins, London, 1988.
37. See the work of the fourteenth-century thinker, ibn Qayyim al-Jawzi’yah, Patience
and Gratitude, translated by Nasiruddin al-Khattab, Taha, London, 1997.
38. For an interesting discussion see Muhammad Madani, The Moderation of Islam,
Supreme Council of Islamic Affairs, Cairo, 1961.
39. Muhammad Hamidullah, The First Written Constitution in the World: An Impor-
tant Document of the Time of the Holy Prophet, Ashraf, Lahore, 1975.
40. M. M. Al-Azami provides a list of sixty-eight companions who acted as scribes to
the Prophet. The History of the Qur’anic Text from Revelation to Compilation, UK
Islamic Academy, Leicester, 2003, p. 68.
41. See Roshdi Rashed (editor), Encyclopaedia of the History of Arabic Science, Rout-
ledge, London, 1996; Donald R. Hill, Islamic Science and Engineering, Edinburgh
University Press, Edinburgh, 1993; George Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges: Institu-
tions of Learning in Islam and the West, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh,
1981; Ehsan Masood, Islam and Science, Icon, London, 2009.
PART FOUR
1. For a background to the Shari‘a, see Wael B. Hallaq, The Origins and Evolution of
Islamic Law, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2005; and Sharia: Theory,
Practice, Transformations, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2009.
382
NOTES pp. [285–251]
2. A typical example of this suggestion comes from Abdur Rahman Doi, Shari’ah:
The Islamic Law, Ta-ha Publishers, London, 1997.
3. Muwatta‘ Imam Malik, translated by Muhammad Rahimuddin, Kazi Publication,
Chicago, 1994; see also Yasin Dutton, The Origins of Islamic Law: The Qur’an,
the Muwatta and Madinan Amal, Routledge, London, 1999.
4. For various rules and regulations of fiqh and its role in the Shari‘a, see Imran Ah-
san Khan Nyazee, Theories of Islamic Law, Islamic Research Institute, Islamabad,
1994.
5. For the impact of the Shari‘a on the Muslim world, see Rashid Ahmad Jalandhari,
Islamic Sharia and its Application with special reference to Pakistan, Institute of
Islamic Culture, Lahore, 2003; Mohammad Tawfiq Ladan, Handbook on Sharia
Implementation in Northern Nigeria, League of Democratic Wormen, Kaduna,
2005; and Jorgen S. Nielson and Lisbet Christoffersen, Sharia as Discourse, Ash-
gate, Farnham, 2010.
6. For a more detailed analysis of this point see Chapter 5, ‘Shariah as problem solv-
ing methodology’, in Ziauddin Sardar, Islamic Futures, Mansell, London, 1985.
7. Hugh Kennedy, The Early Abbasid Caliphate: A Political History, Croom Helm,
London, 1981.
8. On the whole notion of Islamic state, see S. A. A. Maudoodi, First Principles of the
Islamic State, Islamic Publications, Lahore, 1967; Ishtiaq Ahmad, The Concept of
an Islamic State, Pinter, London, 1987; and Asghar Ali Engineer, The Islamic State,
Vikas, Delhi, 1994.
9. On the notion of Vilat-e-Faqih see Imam Khomeini, Islamic Government, trans-
lated by Hamid Algar, The Institute for Compilation and Publication of Imam
Khomeini’s Works, Tehran, n.d.
10. Qamaruddin Khan, Political Concepts in the Qur’an, Institute of Islamic Studies,
Karachi, 1973, gives a similar argument, pp. 43–53.
11. Sir William Muir, The Caliphate: Its Rise, Decline and Fall, Edinburgh University
Press, Edinburgh, 1915, pp. 4–5.
12. For an interesting democratic theory for Muslim societies, see Nader Hashemi,
Islam, Secularism and Liberal Democracy, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2009.
Hashemi argues for both rethinking liberal democracy and Muslim political
thought.
13. For various historical interpretation of this verse, see Mohamed Mahmoud, ‘To
Beat or Not to Beat: On the Exegetical Dilemmas Over Qur’an 4:34’, Journal of
American Oriental Society, 126 (4), 2006, pp. 537–50.
14. Laleh Bakhtiar, The Sublime Qur’an, www.sublimequran.org, Chicago, 2009.
15. Asma Barlas, ‘Believing Women’ in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of
the Qur’an, University of Texas Press, Austin, 2002.
16. Amina Wadud, Women in the Qu’ran, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1999.
383
pp. [310–354] NOTES
17. Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam, Yale University Press, New Haven,
1992.
18. Barlas, op. cit., p. 158.
19. Haleem, op. cit., p. 220.
20. For an excellent account and analysis of sexual problems and practices in Islam
and Muslim societies, see Kecia Ali, Sexual Ethics and Islam, Oneworld Publica-
tions, Oxford, 2006.
21. On Pakistan’s Hadood Ordinance, see Afiya Shehrbano Zia, Sex Crime in the Is-
lamic Context: Rape, Class and Gender in Pakistan, ASR Publications, Lahore,
1994.
22. See Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Punishment in Islamic Law: An Enquiry into
the Hudud Bill of Kelantan, Ilmiah Publishers, Kuala Lumpur, 2000.
23. Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle, Homosexuality in Islam, Oneworld Publications, Ox-
ford, 2010, p. 2.
24. Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle, ‘Sexuality, Diversity and Ethics’ in Progressive Muslims,
edited by Omid Safi, Oneworld Publications, Oxford, 2003, p. 217.
25. Sahih Bukhari translated by Muhammad Matraji, Islamic Book Service, Delhi,
2004 (9 volumes).
26. See Mohja Kahf, Western Representations of the Muslim Women, University of
Texas Press, Austin, 1999.
27. Fatima Mernissi, Women and Islam, Blackwell, Oxford, 1991, provides an excellent
account of the overall situation in Medina when 33:53 was revealed.
28. For a general discussion of how women appear in the Qur’an and how the Qur’anic
verses have been interpreted in history and modern times, see Barbara Freyer Sto-
wasser, Women in the Qur’an, Traditions and Interpretations, Oxford University
29. For truly extreme and obnoxious views, see S. A. A. Mawdudi, Purdah and the
Status of Women in Islam, Islamic Publications, Lahore, 1972; and Mohammad
Zafeerudding Nadvi, Modesty and Chastity in Islam, Islamic Book Publishers,
Kuwait, 1982.
30. Haleem op. cit., footnote on p. 42.
31. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Freedom of Expression in Islam, Berita Publishing,
Kuala Lumpur, 1994
32. Ibid., pp. 218–19.
33. Muhammad Haykal, The Life of Muhammad, American Trust Publications, In-
dianapolis, 1976, p. 454.
34. I have explored the relationship between Islam and the emergence of science in
the Muslim civilisation in Explorations in Islamic Science, Mansell, London, 1989;
but for an alternative view see Ehsan Masood, Islam and Science, Icon Books, Lon-
don, 2009.
35. For the latest research, see the excellent collection of papers in The Enterprise of
384
NOTES pp. [354–370]
Science in Islam, edited by Jan Hogendijk and Abdelhamid Sabra, MIT Press,
Cambridge, 2003.
36. See Jonathan Lyons, The House of Wisdom, Bloomsbury, London, 2009.
37. See George Saliba, A History of Arabic Astronomy: Planetary Theories During the
Golden Age of Islam, New York University Press, New York, 1994.
38. George Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, Baltimore, 1927.
39. Some of these theories have been put forward by Toby Huff, The Rise of Early
Modern Science: Islam, China and the West, Cambridge University Press, Cam-
bridge, 1993.
40. Ziauddin Sardar, ‘Islamic Science: Beyond the Troubled Relationship’, Nature 448,
12 July 2007, pp. 131–3.
41. Ziauddin Sardar, ‘Weird Science’, New Statesman, 21 August 2008.
42. Jamshed Akhtar, The Ultimate Revelation, Oriole International Books, Delhi,
1996.
43. Maurice Bucaille, The Bible, The Qur’an and Science, Paris, 1976; countless editions
and translations.
44. Harun Yahya, Miracles of the Qur’an, Al-Attique Publishers, Scarborough, 2008.
45. Heinz Halm, The Fatimids and their Traditions of Learning, IB Tauris, London,
1997, p. 51.
46. L. E. Goodman, Ibn Tufayl’s Hayy Ibn Yaqzan: A Philosophical Tale, Chicago Uni-
versity Press, Chicago, 2009.
47. Haroon Yayha, Atlas of Creation, Al-Attique Publishers, Scarborough, 2009.
48. See Keith Critchlow, Islamic Patterns, Thames & Hudson, London, 1976.
49. See Carel J. Du Ry, Art of Islam, Harry Abrams, New York, 1970; Markus Hattstein
and Peter Delius, Islam: Art and Architecture, Konemann, Cologne, 2000; and
Treasures of Islam, Sotheby’s, London, 1985.
50. See Sheila S. Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh,
2008; and for contemporary revival of calligraphy see Venetia Porter, World Into
Art, British Museum, London, 2006.
51. This is best demonstrated in Muslim Spain. See Titus Burckhardt, Moorish Culture
in Spain, Allen & Unwin, London, 1970.
52. As Michael Ball says in his famous song, ‘Music’, from the 2000 album Music.
53. George Atiyeh, Al-Kindi: The Philosopher of the Arabs, Kitab Bahvan, Delhi,
1994.
54. Quoted by Ebrahim Moosa, Al-Ghazali and the Poetics of Imagination, Univer-
sity of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill, 2005, p. 177.
EPILOGUE
1. Al-Ghazali, Ihya Ulum al-Din, translated by Muhammad Abdul Quasen, Kegan
Paul International, London, 1982, Book 8, p. 71.
385
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392
INDEX
Aaron (Harun): 217 Ahmed, Leila: feminist commentary of,

Abaya: 329, 334 310
Abbasid Dynasty: 298, 354; succession Aisha: apartment of, 330; family of,
rites of, 298 318; rumours regarding, 318
Abraham (Ibrahim): xvi, 20, 104, 184, Al-Asr: translation of term, 229
217, 295; as a Prophet, 186, 221; Al-Farabi: 354; writings on theory of
attempted temptation of by Satan, music, 366
146; family of, 117, 146; people of, Al-Ghazali: 367; suggestion for reading
294; role in construction of Kaaba, of Qur’an, 370
111, 145, 295 Al-Khwarizmi: developer of Algebra,
Abduh, Mohammad: commentary of, 128
26 Al-Kindi: 354; argument for positive
Abu Bakr: caliph, 15; Bakr, Abu: family aspects for music, 366
of, 321; Companion of Prophet Al-Mamun: founder of House of
Muhammad, 321; immediate Wisdom, 354
successor of Prophet Muhammad, Al-Nakshbandi, Muhamad: The Book of
302; Rightly Guided Caliph, 23, 298 the Yield, 361
Abyssinia: 16 Al-Qaeda: operatives of, 26
Ad: people of, 294 Al-Qurtabi: commentary of, 69
Adam: 91, 105; as first Nabi, 217; and Al-Razi, Fakhr al-Din: commentary of,
Iblis, 366; in Bible, 90, 93; in Qur’an, xviii
171; children of, 241; parable of, 90, Al-Suyuti: writings on Hadith, 226
92, 155, 171, 195, 297; role as first Al-Tabari: commentary of, 25–6, 170,
prophet, 74, 90, 92, 155 309
‘Adl: concept of, 285 Al-Tusi, Nasir al-Din: established
Afghanistan: Taliban rule of, 287 Maragha observatory, 355
Afterlife (Hereafter): 24, 66–8, 81, Al Alim: 33–4
84–5, 87, 90, 110, 154, 158, 197, Al nas: concept of, 296
238, 271, 278; belief in, 276; Alcohol: 228; denouncement of, 227;
companions in, 86; judgement in, perspectives of, 228; praise of, 227
16, 70, 74; place in, 153; promise of, Allah, Shah Wali: writings on Hadith,
186; vision of in Qur’an, 87, 364 226
393
Ali: Rightly Guided Caliph: 23, 298; Road to Mecca, 51; translation of
venerated by Shia, 69 Sahih Bukhari, 50; translation of
Ali, Mir Ahmed: The Holy Qur’an With term ‘qisas’, 125; view of concept of
English Translations of the Arabic Riba, 195–6; view of humankind as
Text and Commentary According the one community, 155, 157
Version of Holy Ahlul-Bait, 49–50 Atheism: 75: respect for, 76
Aligheri, Dante: The Divine Comedy, Attar, Farid al Din: The Conference of
194 the Birds, 270
Amana: 267; concept of, 270, 345 Augustine, St.: 267
Amani Publications: edition of The Ayat al Kursi: popularity of, 179
Holy Qur’an: Text, Translation and Ayoub, Mahmoud: 41; The Qur’an and
Commentary, 46 Its Interpreters, 26
Angels: 18, 64; and God, 91–2, 206; Az-Zuhri: writings on Hadith, 226
concept of, 90; position in creation Azerbaijan: Maragha, 355
myth, 90–2 Aziz, King Abdel: founder of Saudi
Arabia: 128, 147, 286, 332, 369; Arabia, 51
climate of, 316; culture of, 211;
history of, 293; marriage and divorce Bacon, Francis: 267
practices in 166–7, 169; medieval Bakhtier, Laleh: translation work of,
era, 125, 127; inheritance rights of 308–9, 314
women in, 127; literacy rate in, 200; Bani Damrah: respect for treaties made
patriarchal nature of society in, 202; with Muslims, 139
population of, 288–9; pre-Islamic, Bani Kananah: respect for treaties
165–6, 308; slavery in, 167; tribes of, made with Muslims, 139
139, 165 Al-Baqara: xx, 106, 186, 211; aim of,
Arabic: xiv-xvi, 15, 35, 39–41, 59–60, 205–6; close of, 205–7; direct
64, 85, 279, 308; alphabet of, 76; address of Prophet Muhammad in,
grammar of, 34; history of, 34; juz’, 222; focus on hypocrisy, 78, 80;
3; learning of, 354; Muslim opening of, 72, 76
population that speak, 34; phonetics Barlas, Asma: 37; ‘Believing Women’ in
of, 34; semantics of, 34; syntax of, Islam, 316; feminist commentary of,
34; terms derived from, 180 36, 310
Arafat: role in Hajj, 145–6, 148 Bell, Richard: The Qur’an translated
Arberry, Arthur J.: 40, 59; The Koran with a critical rearrangement of the
Interpreted, 41–2, 45, 53 Surahs, 43
Arkoun, Mohammed: critical interpre- Bhagavad Gita: study of, 211
tation of, 22 Bible: 20, 51, 105, 130, 226, 356;
As-Shafi, Imam: 39: view of central role Adam and Eve, 90, 93; Book of
of Arabic, 40 Ezekiel, 185; Book of Micah, 107;
Asad, Muhammad: 59, 359; banning of Book of Samuel, 175, 177; Gospels,
works of by Saudi Arabia, 51; 14; King James edition, 45; New
commentary of, 118, 168–9; Testament, 235; Old Testament, 92,
description of menstruation as 235; parable of Lot in, 326; Prophets
‘vulnerable condition’, 170; The in, 217; Qur’anic view as revealed
Message of The Qur’an, 50–1, 54; The text, 235; Saul, 175, 177; study of,
394
INDEX
211; treatment of women leading David (Dawud): 217, 296, 366; and
from, 201–2; use in comparison with Prophet Muhammad, 366; family of,
Qur’an, xiii-xiv, xvi, 14 366; use of term ‘mailk’ for, 294
Bin Baz, Sheikh: Grand Mufti of Saudi Dawood, N.J.: mistranslations by,
Arabia, 34, 48; view of science, 48 43–4, 49; The Koran, 43–4, 51
bin Laden, Osama: 26 Day of Judgement: 329; accountability
Bucaille, Maurice: The Bible, the Qur’an on, 119; and God, 66, 70, 121, 206,
and Science, 356–7 231; questioning of Jesus on, 218;
Buddha: teachings of, 211 witnesses, 217
Buraq: 221 Deen: concept of, 180–1; Islam
Burqa, 329; opposition to, 334; origin self-described as, 180–1
of, 333–4 Dharaba: origin of term, 308;
Bush, George W.: Muntadhar al-Zaidi translation issues surrounding, 308
shoeing incident (2008), 319 Dhikr: concept of, 247
Dhul-Hijah: 147; timing of Hajj in,
145
Caliphate: 239–40, 303; collapse of
Dhul-Qi’dah, 147
(1924), 47; degeneration into
Doughty, Charles: Travels in Arabia
hereditary system, 298; origin of
Deserta, 44
term, 297; political theory of, 299
Drabble, Margaret: A Natural
Carlyle, Thomas: On Heroes and
Curiosity, 18
Hero-worship, 44
Catholicism: cultural treatment of Egypt: 69; Al-Azhar Mosque, 354;
menstruation, 171 Al-Azhar University, 34, 354; Cairo,
Chador: 329; origin of, 333–4 34, 354, 364; expansion of Islam in,
China: 353; language of, 34 23; history of, 293; Moses’ flight
Christianity: 14, 17, 48, 104–5, 107, from, 174–5, 220
111, 155, 194, 354; claim of notion Eid: al Adha, 146
of Truth, 106; Creationists, 359, Elias (Ilias): 217
361–2; Easter, 130; evangelists, 85; Elisha (Al-Yasa): 217
ideology of, 246; Intelligent Design, Elmarsafy, Zaid: The Enlightenment
359; Lent, 130; missionaries, 42; Qur’an, 44
ordained ministers of, 31–2; Enlightenment: role of the Qur’an in,
Original Sin, 92; ‘People of the 44
Book’, 235; Rapture, 85; teachings Enoch (Idris): 217
of, 267 Esack, Farid: 21–2; view of inability of
Christians: relationship with Muslims, traditional scholarship to deal with
236; treatment of women, 311; view Otherness, 36
of homosexuality, 324 Europe: 194; colonial influence of,
Copernicus: Heliocentric theory of, 290; cultures of, 241
355 European Union (EU): 41
Cragg, Bishop Kenneth: 22, 273 Eve: 105; as Hawwa, 93; in Bible, 90,
93; in Qur’an, 171; parable of, 92,
Darwin, Charles: 361; The Origins of 171, 195, 297; portrayal as tempt-
Species, 362 ress, 171
395
Ezekiel (Dhu’l-kifl): 185, 207 153, 90–1, 159, 180, 184–5, 206–7,
242–3, 253, 265, 357, 359, 363, 369;
Fahisha: concept of, 315, 326; desire exclusive use of term ‘Mulk’ for, 294;
to prevent spread of, 315; use in fear of, 7; focus of Hajj, 147;
Muslim circles to denote homosexu- forgiveness of, 106, 147; grace of,
ality, 325–6 273; guidance of, 48, 154, 181, 184,
Faith: concept of self-surrender in, 206, 219–20; in ‘Verse of Light’,
153–4 367; judgement of, 75, 81, 86, 112,
Family: guardianship of orphans, 166, 119, 121, 144, 154; language of in
168; Qur’anic viewpoint of Qur’an, 63–4; law of, 299; majesty
dynamics of, 167 of, 6, 18; mercy of, 57, 79, 105, 147,
Al-Fatiha: xx, 54, 60, 63–4, 111, 211; 261; message of, 176, 219; names of,
aim of, 205; basis of daily prayer, 64–5; nature of, 238, 363; oneness
205; closing of, 69; familiarity of, of, 243; presence of, 145–6;
179; opening of, 48, 67; words of, 57 relationship with, 165; righteousness
Federation of Students’ Islamic of, 333; sovereignty of, 265,
Societies (FOSIS), 6; The Muslim, 299–300; surrender to, 153–4; unity
6–7 of, 353; will of, 7, 158; word of, 5,
First World War (1914–18): Indian 10, 13, 33, 71–2, 181, 230; wrath of,
contribution to, 46 294
Fitna: concept of, 138, 248–9 Golden Calf: as allegory for dangers of
Flint, Larry: argument for freedom of idol worship, 363–4; parable of, 363
expression, 342 Granada: Alhambra, 364
Foucault, Michal: 18 Greece: culture of, 316; language of,
France: 22, 44: language of, 42 354
Gabriel: role in revelation of Qur’an to Habermas, Jurgen: 251

Prophet Muhammad, 90, 216 Hadd (Hudud): 259; boundaries of,
al-Ghazali, Shaykh Muhammad: 258; concept of, 255–6; frequency
commentary of, xx, 69 of appearance in Qur’an, 255;
God: 3, 10, 16, 18–19, 22, 32, 34, punishment for, 256
39–40, 43–4, 58, 60, 63, 66–7, 70, Hafidh: xvii, 5, 279
72, 78, 80, 107, 117, 131, 137, 145, Hager: family of, 117, 146; story of,
157, 159, 187, 208, 228, 239, 251, 117, 146
339, 345; accountability to, 207; and Hajj: xx, 68, 130, 144, 148–9, 211; and
Angels, 91–2, 206; and Day of Indonesia, 147; and Malaysia, 147;
Judgement, 66, 70, 121, 206, 231; focus on God during, 147; history
apostles of, 178, 205; as Rabb, 64; as of, 147; interest generated in
Rahim, 66; as Rahman, 65; as geography, cartography and
Sustainer, 104, 106, 186, 265; ayat navigation due to, 354; role of Arafat
of, 364; bounty of, 40, 155–6, 262, in, 146, 148; role of Muzdalifah,
274, 315; compassion of, 192; 146; role of Mina, 146; significance
consciousness of, 149, 154, 180, 185, of, 145; tawaf, 146; timing of, 145;
206, 239, 243, 255, 333; covenant umra, 118; unity of, 144–5, 148
of, 86; creations of, 10, 14, 29, 84, Hakam II: library of, 354
396
INDEX
Halal: 300; as dietary arrangement, Prophet Muhammad, 270; in Saudi

236; concept of, 119–20 Arabia, 270
al-Halali, Muhammad Taqi al-Din: Hitchcock, Alfred: The Birds, 186
explanation of fitna, 48–9; explana- Homosexuality: as part of fitra, 324–5;
tion of zalimun, 49; Interpretation of Christian view of, 324; culture of,
the Meaning of the Noble Qur’an in 327–8; Jewish view of, 324; Muslim
the English Language, 48 view of, 324; lack of direct mention
Haleem, M. A. S. Abdel: 59, 338; in Qur’an, 323, 327; use of term
background of, 51; description of ‘fahisha’ to designate in Muslim
jalada, 319; description of menstrua- circles, 325–6
tion, 170–1; description of verses of Hud: 217
Qur’an focusing on crime and Hussein, Imam: grandson of Prophet
punishment, 255; The Qur’an: A Muhammad, 47
New Translation, 51–2, 54, 170, 200, Hyderabad: Nizam of, 45
306–7; translation of term ‘nashaza’,
307 Iblis: behaviour of, 106; refusal to
Hanafi School of Thought: founded by submit to Adam, 366
Imam Abu Hanifa, 39 ibn al-Arabi: mystical interpretation of
Hanbal, Imam: 39; view of role of
Qur’an, 22
structure of Qur’an, 39
ibn Al-Haytham: establishment of
Hanifa, Imam Abu: background of, 39;
optics as experimental science, 354
development of Al-Istihsan, 286;
ibn Arabi: commentary of, xviii, 26, 70;
founder of Hanafi School of
followers of, 70
Thought, 39
ibn Ishaq: Life of Muhammad, 225
Haram: 300; as part of Shari’a, 270;
concept and location of, 119, 270; ibn Kathir: commentary of, xviii, 26,
established by Prophet Muhammad, 196
270 ibn Rushd: 354
Hassan, Imam: grandson of Prophet ibn Sina: 354; writings on theory of
Muhammad, 47 music, 366
Hayan, Jabir ibn: role in foundations of Ibn Taymiyya: aim to find evidence to
chemistry, 354 justify death penalty for blasphemy,
Hayat: concept of, 184 339–40; influence of, 341
Hell: denizens of, 329 Ibn Tufayl: 354; Life of Hayy, 361
Hijab: 335; as a political issue, 334; Ibrahim: story of attempted sacrifice of
concept of, 329; occurrence in son of, 51
Qur’an, 329–30; origin of term, Ihram: 146
331–2 Ijma’: concept of, 286
Hijra: role in Indian and Pakistani Ijaz: evolution of, 356
culture, 327 ‘Ilm: concept of, 253, 353
Hinduism: Durganavami festival, 130; Imam: 58
Krishna, 237; ‘People of the Book’, In the Name of God: cast of, 119
237; Ram, 237; the Vedas, 237 India: 8, 49, 226, 237; contribution to
Hima: as part of Shari’a, 270; concept First World War, 46; Hijra, 327;
and location of, 270; established by ulama of, 141
397
Indonesia: Hajj customs of, 147; Ijtihad: feared by religious scholars,

Muslim population of, 112, 147 355–6; notion of, 355
Iran: 49; capital punishment, 257;
moral police in, 247 Jacob (Ya’qub): 217
Iraq: Abodi hospital: 355; Baghdad, Jahsh, Zaynab, Bint: family of, 331;
354–5; expansion of Islam in, 23; wedding of, 331
history of, 293; House of Wisdom, Jalabib: 332
354 Jalada: description of by Abdel
Isaac (Ishaq): 104, 217 Haleem, 319
Isakbara: concept of, 106 Jamaat-e-Islam: and Pakistan, 139;
Ishmael (Isma’il): 104, 217; family of, founded by Abul Ala Mawdudi, xviii,
117; role in construction of Kaaba, 22, 139
111 Janna: imagery of, 84
Islahi, Amin Ahsan: commentary of, 17 Japan: language of, 34
Islam: xviii, 10, 28, 36–7, 42, 44, 58–9, Jeddah: 148
67, 78, 86, 103, 107, 111, 127, 138, Jerusalem: mosque in, 220; use in
144, 147, 246, 342, 348; art of, prayers of Prophet Muhammad, 110,
364–5, 367; as natural religion, 155; 230
blasphemy, 339–40; calendar of, Jesus (Isa): xvi, 20, 104, 217, 220, 235;
132, 145–6, 354; classical period of,
denial of divine origins of, 217–18;
32; central role of literacy in, 278;
in Qur’an, 217–18
connection with science, 354–5;
Jews: presence in Medina, 236;
converts to, 39; Creationists, 362;
relationship with Muslims, 235–6,
critics of, 163; emergence of, 165;
341; treatment of women, 311;
expansion of, 23; finality of message
tribes of, 330–1; view of homosexu-
of God in, 219; Golden Age of, 354;
history of, 40, 128, 141, 339, 367; ality, 324
imperialism, 223; importance of Jihad: concept of, 285
knowledge to, 352–3, 355–6; lack of Jinn: 64; concept of, 51; purported
priestly hierarchy, 31; loss of faith in, programmes devised to harness
158; pillars of, 145; perceived energy of, 357
violence in, 135, 342; sadaka, 236; Job (Ayyub), 217; parable of, 346–7
self-description as deen, 180–1; John (Yahya): 217
Turkish, 49; use in preservation of Jonah (Yunus): 217
tradition, 334; Wahabi interpreta- Joseph (Yousef ): 104, 217; story of, 47
tion of, 47; worldview of, 179, 204 Judaism: 17, 50, 104–5, 107, 111, 194;
Isma: concept of, 221 anti-Semitism, 48; claim of notion of
Israel: 14, 105; Children of, 154–5, Truth, 106; cultural treatment of
175, 290; principles of, 17 menstruation, 171; kosher, 236; law
Israelites: as followers of Moses, 175; in (Halacha), 236; ‘People of the Book’,
parable of Saul, 175–6 235; sura addressing, 226; tsedaka,
Istishan: concept of, 286; influence on 236; Yom Kippur, 130
development of Islamic law, 286
Istisla: concept of, 286; influence on Kamali, Mohammad Hashim: Freedom
development of Islamic law, 286 of Expression in Islam, 339
398
INDEX
Kanan: builder of Tower of Babel, 185; Malaysia: Hajj customs of, 147
family of, 185 Malcolm X: autobiography of, 148;
Kelantan: Hudud Bill, 320 experience of Hajj, 148
Khadijah: age of, 315; family of, 202, Mali: Timbuktu, 355
310, 315; exception to the lack of Malik: use for David, Solomon and
free will amongst Arabian women, Saul, 294
202 Malik, Anas ibn: 331
Khalidi, Tarif: 59, 360; The Qur’an: A Malik, Imam: 39, 286; influence of,
New Translation, 51–4, 314, 332–3 286, 290; Muwatta’, 285–6; reliance
Khalifa, Rashad: background of, 50; on Hadith, 286; view of central role
followers of, 50 of Arabic, 39
Khalifa: 263; concept of, 75, 91, Mammon: 195
266–7, 269–70, 285, 365; humanity Manji, Irshad: sexuality commentary
as, 91, 119; source of term ‘Caliph- of, 36
ate’, 297; translation of, 266 Marwah: presence in story of Hager,
Khan, Muhammad Muhsin: explana- 117; role in Umra, 118
tion of fitna, 48–9; explanation of Mary: 310; family of, 217–18, 235
zalimun, 49; Interpretation of the Maulvis: 58
Meaning of the Noble Qur’an in the Maut: concept of, 184
English Language, 48 Mawdudi, Abul Ala: commentary of,
Khimar: concept of, 332–3 25–6, 69, 139, 309; confessional
Khulafa: humanity as, 283; scientists as, interpretation of Qur’an, 22;
353 founder of Jamaat-e-Islam, xviii, 22,
Kohlah: complaint to Prophet 139
Muhammad, 338; family of, 338 Mecca: 52, 110, 121, 130, 148; cave of
Korea: language of, 34 Hira, 277; dominated by Quraysh,
Kugle, Scott Siraj ak-Haqq: Homosexu- 16–17, 136–7, 147, 170; emigration
ality in Islam, 325; sexuality of Prophet Muhammad from (622),
commentary of, 36, 325 75, 103, 132, 181, 220, 340, 349;
Kursi: concept of, 180 Grand Mosque, 118; Kaaba, 111,
113, 117–18, 145–6, 295; Muslim
Lahab, Abu; family of, 341 emigration from, 175, 228;
Lebanon: American University; Beirut, pilgrimage to, 68, 147; population
51 of, 158–9, 227; retaken by Prophet
Lenin, V.I.: 79 Muhammad, 145, 278; role in
Lot (Lut): xvi, 20, 217; in Bible, 326; prayers of Muslims, 110–11, 113,
parable of, 326–7; people of, 328 230, 354; Sacred Mosque, 145, 296;
suras of, 25, 226
Madinat ul-Nabi: population of, 103 Medina: 78, 105, 286; Battle of
Madrasa: 4, 6–9; lessons in, 4–5, 7 Trenches, 137; Constitution of, 301;
Mahir-ul-Qadri: poetry of, 9 formerly Yathrib, 103, 181;
Makdisi, George: The Rise of Colleges, migration of Prophet Muhammad to
194 (622), 16–17, 28, 52, 75, 103–4,
Maktoom, ibn Umm: and Prophet 110, 118, 131–2, 181, 277, 309; gay
Muhammad, 221–2 and lesbian population of, 324;
399
mosque of, 338; Muslim migration 15, 50, 298, 321; death of (632),
to, 154, 159, 175, 228, 306; 15–16, 23, 39, 298, 330; directly
population of, 102–3, 117, 121, 158, address in Al-Baqara, 222; emigra-
170, 207, 313, 330, 353; presence of tion from Mecca (632), 75, 103, 132,
Jews in, 236; Sabians, 237; suras of, 220, 340, 349; establishment of
25, 330 haram and hima zones by, 270;
Mernissi, Fatmia: feminist commentary family of, 47, 49, 69, 170, 202, 310,
of, 36 314–15, 318, 327, 330–1, 353;
Midian: people of, 294 finality of, 218–20; followers of, 16,
Mina: role of in Hajj, 146; sacrificing 19, 103, 145; Hadith, 33, 48, 171,
of animals in, 146 201, 226, 286, 326–7, 366;
Mi’raj: concept of, 220–1; isra’, 220 humanity of, 221–2; illiteracy of,
Mista: background of, 321; role in 352; lifetime of, 200, 211–12, 222,
spreading of ‘concocted lie’ about 225–6, 248, 270, 289, 313, 316, 332,
Aisha, 321 337, 369, 372; migration to Medina
Mithat, Ahmet: promotion of (622), 16–17, 28, 52, 75, 103–4,
evolution in works of, 362 110, 118, 131–2, 181, 277, 309;
Moosa, Ebrahim: background of, 8; on Muslim preference to not depict in
madrasas, 8 images, 221; negative perception of,
Morocco: Fez, 270, 354, 365; Muslim 42–3; political leadership of, 301;
population of, 112 recommendation of sexual foreplay
Moses (Musa): xvi, 20, 44, 104, 106, by, 314; retaking of Mecca, 145, 278;
217; family of, 294; flight from revelation of Qur’an to (AD
Egypt, 174–5, 220; followers of, 610—632), xvi, xix, 4–5, 13–16,
175, 220; parable of, 220, 232, 294 23–4, 45, 50, 52, 63, 71, 74, 85, 90,
Muadhin: 3 102–3, 136, 140, 195, 201, 218, 221,
Mukhannath: concept of, 327 256, 277, 317, 323, 330, 369–70;
Muhammad, Prophet: 8, 14, 18–19, succeeded by Abu Bakr, 302; sunna
24–5, 40, 44, 52, 76, 78, 102, 104–5, of, 25, 27, 226, 286, 315, 327; use of
121, 123, 127, 147, 157, 164, 223, Jerusalem in prayers of, 110–11,
278, 301, 309, 311, 342, 366; 230; virtues of, 339; vision in the
acceptance of gay and lesbian Cave of Hira, 216
population of Medina, 324, 327; and Mulk: exclusive use of for God, 294
David (Dawud), 366; and ibn Umm Muslims: xiii-xiv, xvii, xix, 3, 8–11, 15,
Maktoom, 221–2; and Kholah, 338; 18, 25, 27–9, 35, 37, 39, 43–4, 58–9,
and Quraysh, 16, 136, 140, 305; and 64–5, 74, 78–9, 90, 111, 135, 148,
Ramadan, 132; appearance in The 157–8, 164–5, 170–1, 174, 177,
Divine Comedy, 194; army of, 27, 179, 194, 201, 239, 263, 342–3;
140, 296; as last Rasul, 217; adoption of spelling ‘Qur’an’, 45;
ascension to Heaven, 220; Battle of Arabic speakers, 34; belief require-
Badr, 137, 141; Battle of Trenches, ments of, 215; calendar, 103; cities,
137; Battle of Uhud, 137, 140–1, 84; conservation efforts of, 271;
330; biographies of (Seerah), 141, domestic violence in communities
225; change to facing Mecca in of, 305; doctors, 355; effect of Qisas
prayer, 111, 230; Companions of, on conventional thought of, 257–8;
400
INDEX
gay and lesbian community, 36; Oktar, Adnan: as Haroon Yahya, 357,
history of, 23, 28, 113, 120, 242, 362; Atlas of Creation, 362;
284; literacy rates in societies of, following of, 362; Miracles of the
279–80; literal readings of Qur’an, Qur’an, 357
23; migration to Medina, 154, 159, Orientalism: 43: presence in transla-
228, 306; modernists, 219; persecu- tions, 45
tion of, 75, 136–7, 158, 342; poetry Othman: establishment of committee
of, 366; political nature of, 302; of twelve companions of the
prayer, 47, 57, 110, 113, 131, 207, Prophet, 15–16; mushaf, 16; Rightly
221, 225–6, 358, 365; preference to Guided Caliph, 15, 298
not depict Prophet Muhammad in Ottoman Empire: collapse of (1923),
images, 221; presence in Indonesia, 47; liberal thinkers in, 362
112; presence in Morocco, 112;
progression of women in societies of, Pakistan: 7, 17, 22, 27; and Jamaat-e-
201–2; prohibition of printing in Islami, 139; capital punishment, 257;
societies of, 32–3; relations with Hijra, 327; Hudud Ordinance, 256,
other Arabian tribes, 139; relation- 320; media of, 119; territory of, 3
ship with Christians, 236; relation- Palestine: 51; history of, 293; occupied
by Canaanites, 175
ship with Jews, 235–6, 341;
Persia: 39; culture of, 316, 333; Empire
scholarship, 93, 113, 220; signifi-
of, 288; expansion of Islam in, 23
cance of Qur’an for, 5, 10, 14, 17, 60,
Pharaoh: 294; family of, 310; in
197, 363, 370–2; traditions of, 128,
parable of Moses, 220, 231;
204; view of homosexuality, 324–5;
oppression under, 159
view of mushaf, 16; view of ulama,
Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke:
32; worldview of, 66, 253, 288, 341, background of, 45; The Meaning of
367, 370 the Glorious Koran, 45–6, 48;
Muslim Brotherhood: and Sayyid suggestion of menstruation as
Qutb, xviii, 7, 139 ‘illness’, 170; translation of term ‘
Muzdalifah: role of in Hajj, 146 Qawwam’, 309; view on translation
of Qur’an, 40
Nabi: Adam as first, 217; role as Pompeii: ruins of, 185
category of Prophet, 216–17 Prophecy: as one community, 217;
Nadwi, Abdul Hasan Ali: commentary concept of, 215; humanity of, 347;
of, 35 Qur’an presentation of, 215;
Naskh: principle of, 225 revelation, 216
Nigeria: prevalence of polygamy in,
305; religious tension in, 8; school Qawwam: concept of, 310; translation
system of, 9 issues surrounding, 309
Nimrod: and Abraham, 185; family of, Qisas: concept of, 257–8; effect on
185 conventional Muslim thought,
Niqab: opposition to, 334; origin of, 257–8; translation of, 257
333 Qiyas: concept of, 286
Noah (Nuh): xvi, 20, 217; parable of, Qur’an: xiii-xxii, 4–11, 15–16, 19–24,
359; people of, 294 28–9, 31, 36–7, 41–2, 44–5, 57–9,
401
68–70, 72–3, 93, 107, 112, 119, 121, 51–3, 60–1, 64, 84, 86–7, 110;
123, 135, 141, 145, 149, 164, 171, literal readings of, 23; memorisation
180, 184–6, 199, 201, 208, 265, 284, of, 279; migration as beneficial
289–90, 295, 309–10, 316, 339, exercise in, 159; morality of, xx, 343;
342, 351, 369, 371–4; aims for social mystical interpretation of, 22, 211;
change in, 203, 245, 253, 275–6, natural phenomena in, 266–7;
293, 334; al-Fatiha, xx; al-Baqara, nature of charity in, 191–2, 274;
xx; and Bible xiii-xiv, xvi, 14; and notion of measure in, 352; notion of
Prophecy, 215; and Torah, 14; and reason, 251–3; oral form of, 279;
ulama, 32; argumentative nature of, parable of Adam and Eve in, 171;
26; avocation of chastity, 315; call parable of David and Goliath, 175,
for self-defence when under 177; parable of Talut/Saul, 175, 177;
persecution in, 136–8, 141; care of perceived aggression in, 48;
orphans in, 166, 168, 306; chapters perceived as scientific treatise,
of, 57, 60, 63–4, 66, 71, 76; concept 355–7; perceived necessary caveat
of prophets in, 176; concept of risk when reading, 157; perceived sexism
in, 269; concept of shura in, 176–7; in, 43; portrayal of homosexuality,
condemnation of corruption in, 132; 327; portrayal of sex in, 313, 315,
condemnation of Riba, 196; 317, 321; power within framework
confessional interpretations of, 22; of as an amana, 297, 302–3;
contradictions in, 227, 305, 308; prescription of fasting during
continuity in, 174; creation of Ramadan in, 132; principles of, 25;
humanity in, 360–1; critical prohibition of alcohol in, xviii-xix,
interpretation of, 22; depiction of 225–6; prohibition of printing of in
Hereafter, 74; deviation of Shari’a Muslim societies, 32–3; property
from, 288; difference between trade rights in, 127; punishment for crime
and usury, 194, 197, 200; dynamic in, 124–6; recitation of, 365;
nature of, 212; emphasis on justice revelation of (AD 610—632),
in, 269, 306; emphasis on need for xv-xvii, xix, 4–5, 13–16, 23–4, 45,
humility in, 92; emphasis on 50, 52, 63, 71, 74, 85, 90, 102–3,
plurality of creation in, 64; equality 136, 140, 195, 201, 218, 221, 256,
of humanity in, 124, 241–4, 261, 277, 317, 323, 330, 369–70; role in
263, 269, 274, 345, 347–8; feminist the Enlightenment, 44; sexuality-
interpretation of, 36, 204, 310; focus based reading of, 36; significance of
on governance in, 293–4; gender- for Muslims, 5, 10, 14, 17, 60, 197;
based reading of, 172, 203, 307, 335; socially rational interpretation of
goals of, 283; guidelines for religious verses of, 212–13; story of Hager,
harmony in, 238; guidelines for 117; structure of, 40, 51; suras of, 14,
witnessing usury in, 200–1; Hijab in, 16–17, 19, 22–4, 50, 52, 60, 68,
329–30; history as a guide in, 72–3, 80, 85, 91, 103–6, 124, 130,
231–3; idea of patience, 275; 138, 153, 156–8, 165, 168, 175,
importance of science in, 362; 192–3, 195–7, 201, 205, 207, 217,
institution of fasting as form of 221, 225, 229–30, 232, 247, 262,
worship, 130; Jesus in, 217–18; 266, 271, 274, 278, 303, 305–6,
language used in, xvi, 15, 34–5, 40, 313–14, 318, 323–4, 331, 341, 346;
402
INDEX
totality of, 169; traditional reading during, 132 ; prohibition of sex

of, 24; translation of, xiv-xvii, 18, during, 313
39–40, 51, 54, 60, 103; understand- Rasul: Prophet Muhammad as last,
ing of relations with Jews and 217; role as category of Prophet,
Christians in, 104; Urdu translations 216–17
of, 6; use of language in, 25; use for al-Razi, Fakhr al-Din: commentary of,
justification of social behaviour or 25, 52
laws, 9; ‘Verse of Light’, 367; view of Riba: concept of, 195–6; practice of,
marriage and divorce, 167–8, 170, 196; Qur’anic condemnation of, 196
172, 203, 255–6, 308; vision of Rida, Rashid: 41; commentary of, 26,
afterlife in, 87; view of Bible and 42; fatwa against translation of the
Torah as revealed texts, 235; view of Qur’an (1908), 40, 45
crime and punishment, 258; view of Robinson, Neil, 19
human condition in, 155, 166, 174, Rodwell, J.M.: The Koran, 42
177, 239, 261, 348; view of mercy Ross, Alexander: The Alcoran of
killings, 347–8; view of pluralism in, Mahomet, 42
243–4; view of polygamy, 306, 308; Rumi, Jalaluddin: mystical interpreta-
view of pre-Islamic Arabic divorce tion of Qur’an, 22
procedure, 166; virtues of, 339;
warning of dangers of interpretation Sabians: beliefs of, 237; presence in
and distortion in, 164; words of as Medina, 237
decorative calligraphy, 364; Saeed, Abdullah: cultural commentary
worldview of, 356 of, 27–8
Quraysh: Battle of Badr, 136–7; Safa: presence in story of Hager, 117;
dominance of Mecca, 16, 136–7, role in Umra, 118
147, 170; hostility towards Prophet Sahih Bukhari: contents of, 327
Muhammad and Muslims, 16, 136, Salama, Umm: family of, 327
140, 305; sexual practices of, 170 Sale, George: The Koran: Commonly
Qutb, Sayyid: and Muslim Brother- called the Alkoran of Mohammed, 42
hood, xviii, 7, 139; background of, 7; Saleh, Prophet: 217
commentary of, xviii, 7, 25, 112, Saleh al-Shaiban, Layth: follower of
139; In the Shade of the Qur’an, 6–7; Rashad Khalifa, 50; Qur’an: A
tafsir, 26 Reformist Translation, 50
Sarton, George: 355
Rabb: concept of, 63–4; God as, 64–5 Sartre, Jean-Paul: 249; No Exit, 245
Rahim: concept of, 65; God as, 66; Satan: attempted temptation of
origin of term, 65–6 Abraham, 146; defiance of, 92; role
Rahman: concept of, 65; God as, 65; in parable of Adam and Eve, 92;
origin of term, 65 voice of, 366
Rahman, Fazlur: commentary of, xviii, Saudi Arabia: 34, 46–7, 148, 287;
219; critical interpretation of banned works of Muhammad Asad,
Qur’an, 22, 27 51; capital punishment, 257;
Ramadan: 4, 130, 314, 354: and founded by King Abdel Aziz, 51;
Qur’an, 132; fast during, 68, 131–2; hima, in, 270; Mecca University, 9,
practice of Prophet Muhammad 34; Medina University, 34; moral
403
police in, 247; Old Jeddah, 364; Socrates: methodology of, 283
prevalence of polygamy in, 305; use Solomon (Sulaiman): 217; use of term
of Hadith in translations of Qur’an, ‘mailk’ for, 294
50; use of Qur’an for justification of South Africa: 21
social behaviour or laws, 9; xenopho- Suayib, Ahmed: use of evolutionary
bia, 49 ideas by, 362
Saul: 177; appointment by God as a Sudan: capital punishment, 257
leader, 176, 295; as Talut, 175–6, Sufism: 22, 211, 226, 237; interpreta-
295; in Bible, 175, 177; use of term tion of straight path, 70; literature
‘mailk’ for, 294 of, 270; music of, 366; saints of, 237
School of Oriental and African Studies: Suicide bombing: arguments posed by
faculty of, 51 supporters of, 348–9; flaws in
Schulte-Nafey, Martha: follower of arguments for, 348–9
Rashad Khalifa, 50; Qur’an: A Sunni: reverence of companions of
Reformist Translation, 50 Prophet Muhammad, 50
Scotland: 43; Edinburgh, 43 Sura Al-Baqara: opening of, 71
Shah, Nasiruddin: role in In the Name Sura al Nisa: family dynamics in, 305;
of God, 119 polygamy in, 305
al-Suyuti, Jalal al-Din: confessional
Shahrazi, Sadi: Bustan, 270; Gulistan,
interpretation of Qur’an, 22
270
Syria: 40; Aleppo, 365; Damascus,
Shari’a: xxi, 51, 85, 118, 164, 236, 255,
354–5; Kabir an-Nuri hospital, 355
259, 270, 287, 290–1, 300;
codification of, 299; content of, 289;
Tafsir: 42; and Sayyid Qutb, 26;
courts, 314; criticism of, 289;
methodology of, 25; Usual al-Tafsir,
deviation from Qur’an, 288; 23
evolution of, 320; imposition of, Tair: meanings of, 186
287, 372; influences on development Taliban: 26; declarations of, 157; rule
of, 286, 289; fiqh, 287; literal of Afghanistan, 287, 319
meaning of, 285; origin of term, 68, Taqlid: extent of, 118–19
285; perceived role in decline of Taqwa: 79; and Umma, 247; concept
science in Muslim civilisation, 355; of, 72, 247
propagation of injustice, 287–8; Tatawwu: concept of, 130
rules regarding Zina, 320; supposed Tawheed: concept of, 265–6; extension
divine nature of, 285, 371 to all humanity, 266
Shawwal: 147 Tevfik, Riza: self-declared apprentice of
Sheba, Queen of, 295; as qawwam, 310 Charles Darwin, 362
Shia: doctrines of, 49, 69; use of Thamud: people of, 294
Hadith in translations of Qur’an, 50; The Presidency of Islamic Researches
veneration of Ali, 69 Call and Guidance: edition of The
Shu’aib: 217 Holy Qur’an: Text, Translation and
Shura: 298 Commentary, 46–7
Siddiqui, Mona: How to Read the Tibawi, A.L.: view on alleged superior-
Qur’an, 21 ity of Arabic, 41
Sikism: emphasis on Unity of God, 237
404
INDEX
Torah: 20, 226; Old Testament, 14, Voltaire, François-Marie Arouet: 44

235; Qur’anic view as revealed text,
235; study of, 211; use in compari- Wadud, Amina: feminist commentary
son with Qur’an, 14 of, 36, 310
Turkey: 22, 42, 357; Islam in, 49 Wahabism: inspiration of fanaticism,
49; interpretation of Islam, 47;
Uhud: Battle of (625), 27 worldview of, 48
Ulama: 31, 58; and India, 141; and Waliullah, Shah: idea of wahdat
Taqwa, 247; hegemony of, 33; al-deen, 237
perceived extended status of women Waqfs: concept of, 194
by, 172; reduction of concept of Wasat: concept of, 111
ijma’, 32; reduction of concept of Watt, Montgomery: 22
’ilm, 32; role as de-facto priests, 32 Wehr, Hans: A Dictionary of Modern
Umar, caliph: establishment of hima of Written Arabic, 195
ash-Sharaf by, 270; establishment of Welayat Faqih (‘Grand Jurist’): concept
hima of ar-Rabdah by, 270; Rightly of, 300
Guided Caliph, 15, 23, 270 Witnesses: burden of, 204; gender
Ummayad Dynasty: 298 balance of, 201, 204; role in case of
Umma: concept of, 245–6; extremist divorce, 203; role in case of
perception of, 245–6; non-Muslim infidelity, 203–4; role in Day of
perception of, 246 Judgement, 217; usury, 201–2
United Kingdom: 26; colonialism of, Women: 338; alimony for, 307–8; as
141 witnesses, 201, 204; belief of
United Nations (UN): International extended status by ulama, 172;
Covenant on Economic, Social and Biblical influence of treatment of,
Cultural Rights (1966), 262–3; 201–2; Christian and Jewish
Universal Declaration of Human community treatment of, 311;
Rights (1948), 261–3 divorce rights of, 167; domestic
United States of America (USA): 27; violence, 311; female circumcision,
Christian Creation movement, 362; 320; inheritance rights of, 127;
evangelical Christians of, 85 initial lack of free will, 167;
Urdu: 5, 9, 59, 241; Sipara, 3–5, 57; misogynistic treatment of, 171, 309;
translations of Qur’an, 6 menstruation, 170–2; motherhood,
‘Urf: concept of, 286; influence on 168–9, 171, 248; punishment for
development of Islamic law, 286 adulteresses, 318; role in family life,
Uthman: Rightly Guided Caliph, 23 167; social progression of, 202, 204;
Usury: 200; Qur’an distinguished treatment of, 163–4, 284, 306, 309;
between trade and, 194; witnesses, widowhood, 168
201; worst effects on moral
well-being, 195 Yawm: concept of, 360
Uzbekistan: Bukhara, 354; Samarkand, Yazdi, Ayatollah Mirza Mahdi Pooya:
354 commentary provided for The Holy
Qur;an With English Translations of
Volney, Constantin: commentary of, 44 the Arabic Text and Commentary
405
According the Version of Holy ‘pollution’, 170; translation of term ‘

Ahlul-Bait, 49 Qawwam’, 309; translation of term
Yuksel, Edip: follower of Rashad ‘qisas’, 125
Khalifa, 50; Qur’an: A Reformist
Zacariah (Zakariyya): 217
Translation, 50
Zakat: 68, 130, 211; concept of,
Yusuf Ali, Abdullah: 48, 59, 323, 333;
191–2; distinction from giving in
appendices, 47; background of, charity, 191
45–6; methodology of, 46; The Holy Zamzam: well of, 117–18
Qur’an: Text, Translation and Zina: concept of, 256; punishment for,
Commentary, 45–8, 54, 169, 177, 256, 318–19; under Shari’a
200, 338; translation of ‘Al-Asr’, 229; legislation, 320
translation of menstruation as Zulm: 185; concept of, 184
406
The servants of the Lord of Mercy are those who walk humbly on the earth,
and who, when the foolish address them, reply, ‘Peace’! (25:63)

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READING THE QUR’AN

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Reading the Qur’an

Copyright © 2011 by Ziauddin Sardar

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Printed in the United States of America

PART ONE: OVERVIEW

PART TWO: BY WAY OF TRADITION

20. Al-Baqara: Apostasy and Migration 151

PART THREE: THEMES AND CONCEPTS

PART FOUR: CONTEMPORARY TOPICS

51. Evolution 359

jumped in with their interventions, and Theresa Malone and David

We live in troubled times, in a dangerous and destabilised world. At the heart

interlinked by overarching themes and subject matter. Looking at what seem

THE QUR’AN AND ME

Shade of the Qur’an, a massive, multi-volume commentary by one of the leading

In disputes they swear by me,

STYLE AND STRUCTURE

Expectations tend to condition our reactions. Think of the hype involved in

of previous prophets, such as Musa (Moses), Ibrahim (Abraham), Nuh (Noah)

APPROACH AND INTERPRETATIONS

find it particularly stimulating to look at how a group of classical commenta-

translator(s), an attempt to provide one possible meaning of a complex, mul-

fantastic hallucinations. A more thorough rearrangement was attempted by

Spouses become virgins. Moreover, the translation uses rather obscurantist

Of course, not all ‘Orientalist’ translations served a polemical, missionary

North America, promoting the Indian contribution to World War 1. On the

believed in Allah’, suggesting that polytheists and apostates, by their very

example, the Prophet, or the Community of Believers, or the hostile Meccan

to share with the reader my best approximation of the Qur’an as I understand

In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

To be a Muslim is to accept that the Qur’an is the direct word of God as

5. Guide us to the straight way,

kinds of doubt, offering, as we shall find, arguments and strategies against

sonal salvation. To be meaningful it must be transformative: it must be lived,

It is appropriate, in light of the contemporary significance some Muslims

to humanity, in the symbolic personages of Adam and his wife, is to emphasise

106. None of Our revelations do We abrogate or cause to be forgotten, but We substitute

This is a very long section, yet it seems to me that it needs to be viewed in

acknowledged by Muslim scholars. But beyond that, the notion of a ‘middle

false ‘attribution of religious validity to customs sanctioned by nothing but

victims of trafficking. Clearly, ‘a community of the middle way’ which is con-

In practical terms, how does a community of the middle way operate? We

establishing normative principles for the operation of law throughout time.

universal, would be a gross error. Here, as in so many other places in the

When it comes to punishment, society is cautioned not to transgress, not

Qur’an led Al-Khwarizmi (c.780–850), the Persian mathematician, to develop

As a religious institution, fasting is as universal as prayer. Jews fast on Yom

mitted to the complete destruction of the Muslim community, as a later verse

oppression can lead to unspeakable atrocities, the ongoing denigration and

In my opinion, the opposite interpretation, that fighting is to be continued

It is the greatest annual gathering of humanity, when almost three million

Here we have what, at first sight, appear to be a number of disconnected

A particular consequence of unending fighting and warfare in Arab society

the history of interpretation in other religions creates an instant sensitivity

As we have already discussed, the Qur’an provides a message of continuity

soever He pleases. There is a collective responsibility on each individual within

been spared. What is suggested in verse 253 is that divergence of opinion

obligation and responsibility to others. Wherever need endures, so too does

subtraction. So spending one’s wealth to support humanity and humane causes

question him about the extensive meaning of riba. Classical commentators,

need to confirm the validity of a particular event. The witnesses themselves